


The Black Talon-Esseles Massacre

by Ihsan997



Series: Star Wars: the Old Empire [1]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Amputation, Battle, Betrayal, Blood, Blood and Injury, Brainwashing, Character Death, Communication Failure, Deception, Despair, Electrocution, Financial Issues, Force Choking, Frustration, Gen, Hope vs. Despair, Ideology, Immobility, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Isolation, Lack of Communication, Leadership, Lightsaber Battles, Lightsabers, Loss of Limbs, Mercenaries, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Original Character Death(s), Resentment, Responsibility, Restraints, Self-Sacrifice, Serious Injuries, Space Battles, Tattoos, Trapped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-03-27 22:29:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 44,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13890471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ihsan997/pseuds/Ihsan997
Summary: A hastily formed squad accepts a series of suicidal missions after receiving false impressions. Determined to make lemonade from lemons and pour it down the drain out of spite, they throw themselves into the tasks. Will they crash and burn? Or will they kill two stones with one bird?





	1. Challenge Accepted

**Author's Note:**

> Original take on the in-game flashpoints. This occurs in late 3643 BBY.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Political string-pulling leads to a misleading. Violence and possibly hilarity ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told from the perspective of a Sith warrior who’s *not* the Emperor’s Wrath.

“We’re here live in Sobrik on these busy streets as preparations have reached completion. You can feel the energy here as the crowds are already turning out for the celebration of the Balmorran Resistance’s dissolution, and more and more people just keep on coming. Governor Lachris herself is scheduled to make an appearance later on tonight, though as you can see behind me, the local populace has already begun to rejoice. Let’s go to our interview reel-“

The holocast was cut in the Fury interceptor’s Common area, leaving the small group in silence as they left Balmorra’s gravitational pull. A single robed Sith warrior sighed in satisfaction and waited for a moment as his crew awaited orders.

Orcina, one of his two naval personnel, spoke up first. “My lord, Balmorra wouldn’t have been won for the Empire had you not intervened. Don’t you wish to see the celebration?” she asked.

Darth Xuvas folded his arms behind his back and walked toward the cockpit, shaking his head. “We know that our efforts - all of you included - led to this victory. To bask in the adulation of strangers would cheapen it.” He stopped at the passage to the cockpit and faced all of them. “You can replay it later if you’d like to see, but for now, we have no reason to remain here. We can await further instructions from the Sphere at the Imperial Fleet-“

The nervous yet artificial cough of the ship’s 2V-R8 service droid alerted the organic members of the crew to the timid interruption. Though his followers didn’t dare look away from him, Xuvas turned to see what exactly the droid wanted.

Wringing its hands as if it feared imminent deactivation, the service droid fidgeted as if unsure of whether or not it should speak. “Dreadfully sorry, my lord, I regret interrupting your conversation.”

“Is this an emergency?” Xuvas asked the droid flatly, sending its circuitry flashing with worry.

“Please accept my apologies for the intrusion, but the situation is urgent to say the least. The admiral of the 5th fleet has contacted us via the secure channel in the cockpit. He’s asking for you specifically.”

Surprised and intrigued, Xuvas forced himself to be silent and pray that his ego wouldn’t be unnecessarily inflated. Not wanting to grandstand, he turned back to his crew before he could think any further.

“You two, consider yourselves on low-level alert until instructed otherwise,” he told his quartet of Imperial troopers.

“Yes, my lord,” their corporal replied as they took their leave to assigned posts on the ship.

“Orcina, Trevjan, perform all maintenance and payload inspections now. Await further instructions via the intercom.”

“Yes, my lord,” Orcina replied for the two naval personnel as they both took their leave.

Just as Xuvas walked toward the cockpit, the service droid continued to apologize. “Lord Xuvas, please allow me to express my deepest regrets for interrupt-“

“Go wake up Pjiega,” he ordered the droid brusquely as he entered the cockpit.

The prospect of waking up his surly retainer seemed to worry his droid even more. “Oh, well, far be it from me to delay in carrying out orders, but are you sure that she’s not already awake?” 2V-R8 asked pensively.

Xuvas didn’t even wait before walking away, leaving his whole crew to carry out their tasks and himself to handle the communications and autopilot on his own. The fleet communications console was already set to a closed frequency, and a callback message was automatically sent to his caller when he stood in front of the terminal. In a matter of seconds, the well-known scarred face of Rycus Kilran greeted him.

“Admiral Kilran of the 5th Fleet, I’m Darth Xuvas of the Sphere of Philosophy. I’ve been informed of your call.”

The moff had an angry smile, and not simply due to the scar tissue. No matter how the moff’s voice changed, his face always carried a measure of displeasure, or perhaps disappointment, in it. Despite the flattery he felt at such a high-profile call, Xuvas was still as wary of upsetting Kilran as he would be with another Force-sensitive.

“Good to hear. I’m also pleased that you’re aware of who I am; I’d prefer to skip the pleasantries if possible. I’ve heard of you, as well as your discipline, so rest assured that the news I bring is specifically relevant to you. I’m calling you, with the knowledge of your master Darth Aruk, for a matter both private and urgent. Please keep your crew out of your ship’s cockpit for a moment.”

News of Kilran’s having contacted Aruk put Xuvas even more on edge. Aruk was flippant and unjust, and the fact that Xuvas didn’t know what his master had discussed with this moff bearing an angry smile felt like a mild threat.

Bracing himself for a possible argument, Xuvas buried any emotion that may have reflecte in his tone. “We’re alone, and I’ve completed my latest business on Balmorra. What is your message?” he asked flatly.

“I’ve tracked down a former General from our ranks who’s defected. He’s on a Republic ship en route to share military secrets as we speak.”

Sighing silently, Xuvas paused for a moment, Kilran’s thinly veiled impatience be damned. All politics aside, he understood the seriousness. “I’m prepared to pursue at this very instant,” he said, surprising himself when his statement caused the Kilran’s smile to suddenly appear more sincere.

“Remind me to tell you later how relieved I am to see your commitment.”

“Oh, I will. You can count on that.” When the anger returned to Kilran’s smile, Xuvas skipped any and all formalities. At least they could be honest with each other. “What are the current conditions and location? I’ll face them regardless, but I must know.”

The skepticism in Kilran’s eyes was unnerving. “If you take the nearest hyperspace lane, you’ll catch up to the Republic corvette within two hours. Its escort consists of less than a single squadron of fighters, and we have a frigate waiting on the scene to assist you when ready.”

“The frigate on its own could handle what you describe. What resistance are we facing if I’m also needed? What should I expect?”

“Ah, and here’s the reason for my call,” Kilran said with eyes lit up. “Our frigate commander has refused orders to attack unassisted.”

“That’s a violation of Imperial statutes,” Xuvas replied tersely. He might be suspicious of the moff, but insubordination bothered him even more.

“Darth Aruk has spoken true; you’re a man who plays by the book, more so than myself, I’m afraid. This is your primary contribution: my reputation for unorthodox methods is known. To directly discipline this specific commander, Revinal Orzik, would be politically costly for me due to inevitable accusations of hypocrisy. You, however, make a career of upholding our society’s laws and ensuring ideological purity. Your discipline in this instance would only enhance your reputation, and your presence alone would intimidate our personnel from any further instances of illegal defiance. This works out for us both.”

“What works out best for us all is defense of the Empire. I shall leave not a single staff member except that this point is made beyond clear to them.”

“Splendid. I’ll route the coordinates to your ship via this secure channel and inform your master of your compliance,” Kilran replied, grating on the pureblood’s nerves with the passive aggressive language. “It goes without saying that, since the frigate commander mustn’t know of your approach, that you and the two starfighters escorting you should maintain radio silence.”

Only Aruk knew that Xuvas had an escort of two ships he privately owned (and had installed hypersrives in). How much was his master plotting with other high-ranking officials without telling him?

“You have my word, admiral. I’ll leave immediately and handle this; your expression of relief won’t need to wait long.”

Kilran recognized the passive aggressiveness thrown right back at him, and his angry smile pulled into a sneer. “Thank you,” the moff replied before cutting the transmission.

Trying not to think of the political machinations of Aruk, Xuvas retired to his quarters without speaking and locked the door. He’d rerouted the intercom to his private room to maintain his mystique in front of the crew. He’d need their obedience if he would be facing possible resistance from the frigate on the scene.

He stood in front of the ship’s intercom.

“Attention all personnel: prepare for imminent departure into hyperspace. The coordinates have been routed to our Fury; Trevjan will route them to our two auxiliary ships. Orcina will lead us into hyperspace without delay; arrival to the theatre of combat is expected within two hours. All other personnel are to make final preparations and await said arrival. We’re to join an Imperial convoy in apprehending a highly dangerous galactic criminal on board a Republic ship. Attend to your stations in the final ten minutes prior to arrival; expect lightly armed opposition.

“Radio silence is to be observed outside of our three ships as of now. Disperse.”

Thanks to the soundproof interior, Xuvas was able to prepare for the coming battle in peace. He found it best not to think about combat as it approached, nor to fantasize about what could or couldn’t occur. When the conflict arrived, he’d allow his experience and training to take over; until then, he’d clear his mind.

Two hours were surprisingly long as a period of time to wait. Therein, he was able to stretch, meditate, recite the Sith Code a dozen times, take a half-hour power nap, and fine tune his armor. For the longest time, he was almost wondering if they’d overshot their final destination.

All of that ended, of course, when he was thrown from his chair to the floor of his quarters. Aside from a metallic dent, there was minimal noise to signify why the ship was shaking so much, or why a low rumble the floor followed.

By the time Xuvas had jumped to his feet, the ship’s verbal alarm system began to ring, leaving no doubt that they’d arrived at the correct location.

The alarm system spoke in a frustratingly detached voice.

“Warning: ship hull breached; oxygen supply decreased. Sealing chamber doors to isolate. Danger imminent.”


	2. Catastrophic Damage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> False pretenses reduce efficiency and endanger safety standards. But this is starfighter combat...we don’t need no stinking safety standards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Immediate continuation of the previous chapter.

By the time Xuvas had rushed to the cockpit, the rumbling had stopped, though he did notice that the entire right wing of his ship had been sealed off. The alarm continued to ring until he reached his chair at the front of the ship, revealing the ongoing starship battle against Republic forces.

His two pilots barely noticed his entrance, and they even forewent their usual displays of nervous deference. The situation wasn’t good.

“Hull damage to our right wing! Starfighter, report!” Trevjan yelled into the comm link loudly.

Neria, a crew member on one of the Sith warrior’s personal fighters, sounded only marginally calmer. “We avoided damage coming out of hyperspace, but...oh! We’re in the middle of it, the battle must have begun early!” The sounds of turrets firing overcame her voice, and the explosion of some ship off somewhere in the void caught everyone’s attention.

“Put me through to the commander of that frigate!”

“Yes, Lord Xuvas!” Trevjan replied frantically.

Orcina, who’d been handling the controls on her own, was gradually having a mental breakdown. “I can’t, I can’t escape! They’re too fast, they’re cheating!”

“My lord, they’re trying to block our call!” Trevjan exclaimed.

“We’re abandoned, this was a setup!” Orcina exclaimed.

“Shut up! Both of you shut up! Orcina, ignore the starfighters and take cover under the frigate! Trevjan, hack their commlink and block out all other calls!”

“Fire damage contained,” the ship’s automated voice system stated.

A crackle of his own communications link caught his attention, and Xuvas swiveled his chair around just in time to find two naval officers facing him. The fact that he was already irritated was an advantage, and his entire body language made him look as if he were about to leap through the fleet holoterminal and strangle the officers by hand.

“Rank and names. Now.”

Of the two officers, one was a lady who appeared quite relieved while the other was what could possibly be described as a gentleman, albeit a rather downtrodden one. The morose looking officer spoke first.

“My lord, I’m commander Revinal Orzik of the Black Talon. To my right is Lieutenant Silas. Admiral Kilran has informed us of who you are. Let me start by saying-“

“Status report,” Xuvas ordered through grit teeth.

“Well...yes, of course. Our shields have been half depleted, we lost half of the squadron of starfighters assigned to us, and we sustained hull damage when Republic boarding pods hit us.”

“Are the enemy boarding teams dead?”

“Yes, a Mandalorian team taking our usual travel route actually hijacked our ship half an hour ago. They eliminated all infiltrators but died in the process.”

“Good. And...wait, why was there a team of those good-for-nothing mercenaries on board an Imperial frigate?”

“They apparently needed to travel to Dromund Kaas and, well, they paid for tickets. Their leader Ironfist-“

“Tickets?” Xuvas asked in shock.

While their conversation was cut off by another round of laser turret fire, the Sith pureblood swiveled his chair around to take a look at the battle. In between the frantic, panicking figures of his two pilots, he could see a Republic Thranta-class corvette, a full squadron of starfighters emanating from it like an insect swarm. There was one problem: the Imperial ship he and his crew were flying under was conspicuously small. His interceptor itself was nearly a third the length of this so-called Black Talon.

All at once, everything began to click.

“You’re flying a transport ship?” Xuvas murmured rhetorically.

Orzik appeared confused. “Of course, my lord. What did you expec-“

“They’re down! Oh no, Neria and Graeth are down!” Orcina shrieked.

“What do you mean they’re down?” Xuvas asked, temporarily forgetting his holocall.

“They were hit!” Trevjan replied. “Total loss!”

“They’re all dead! Dead! DEAD-“

“Silence!” Xuvas yelled, though since she was the more competent of the two he had very little to actually threaten her with. “Absorb as much damage as possible and fight offensively! We’ll win by attrition!” He quickly turned back to the fleet holoterminal. “The Black Talon is a transport ship?” he asked the officers.

“What else could it be-“

“Yes, we fly an armored transport ship,” Sylas said, cutting her commanding officer off just as he seemed to have been saying something unwise. “After consulting with Ironfist, who consulted with Admiral Kilran, we acceded to the latter’s demand for action. Being faced with a warship, we’ve done surprisingly well, but the Republic boarding pods struck before you arrived. Isn’t that right, commander?”

Clearly overwhelmed, Orzik was the embodiment of a normally calm man who’d run out of options. “Yes, that’s our situation,” he sighed. A staff member outside the scope of the hologram caught the attention of the two officers, bringing news that caused Orzik to become even more crestfallen. “Another fighter lost...I tried to tell the Admiral.”

Sylas looked visibly uncomfortable for the first time. “Commander, please-“

“We’re no match for a proper warship. This was a suicide mission.”

“Then we all take our last steps together,” Xuvas Force-growled into the terminal strongly enough to make both officers jump. “We serve our purpose as best we can, and we die for the Empire with clean consciences. But we don’t refuse orders when the stakes are so high.”

Stubborn like an upset child, Orzik almost seemed to shut down. “Very well, my lord. Please instruct us on how we’re to die.”

Laser fire flashed in front of Xuvas’ ship, lighting up the void and impressing upon all of them the time-sensitive nature of the operation. His ship even shook as it was hit one more time by enemy fire.

“You’ll hang back, command your ship complement, and watch,” Xuvas replied confidently. He’d be lying if he claimed he hadn’t telepathically infiltrated the minds of Orzik and Sylas to make them more open to the power of suggestion. “We’re going in. We’re taking our their command. We’re bringing the person of interest aboard your ship thereafter.”

“We happily await your arrival,” Sylas said when Orzik appeared too dumbstruck to speak.

Not wanting to let them chat any longer, Xuvas canceled the transmission and turned back to his ship’s window just in time to see an enemy fighter pelt them with numerous laser blasts. With both of his pilots panicking, he had to telepathically manipulate them as well.

“Hit the throttle and surprise them - we’re going to light up that Thranta!”

“Oh-okay, my lord!” Orcina replied pensively. Xuvas wondered how she might have reacted had he not been altering her mind.

Still, she did as she asked, nearly clipping a friendly starfighter in the process. The gap between the two ships was considerable, and the amount of incoming fire as their Fury closed said gap was intimidating. They weaved in and out of the projectiles, avoiding most surprisingly well but nonetheless sustaining heavy damage due to their ship’s relatively large size. They gave as good as they got, and Xuvas could watch as the Republic starfighters broke formation and regrouped in reaction to their strategy. His hopes increased as his Fury and the enemy Thranta squared off mere kilometers apart, trading shots as his ship barreled toward it.

It was too good to be true, of course.

The private channel all of his ships kept open crackled. “Noooooooo-“ screamed Kurtaden, a crew member on that ship, just before an explosion was heard.

Orcina continued flying and emotionally breaking down at the same time. “No, not them too!”

“We’re taking hits!” Trevjan said.

“Warning: hull breached again. Sealing left wing of ship,” the automated voice message system droned.

A minor tremor shook the entire Fury, rattling even the heavy electronic equipment. The ship sounded like it was being pulled apart at the seams.

“This is a proper capital ship, my lord! We can’t win!” Trevjan yelled.

“We WILL win!” Xuvas yelled even louder.

“Neria, Kurt, they’re DEAD!” Orcina yelled.

“Avenge them and keep driving straight ahead!”

“My lord, we’re outgunned!” Trevjan pleaded.

“Warning: oxygen loss accelerating. Right engine on fire. Power sources draining,” the system announced just before another round of rumbling from enemy fire.

“We’re gonna die!” Orcina cried.

“Unlikely, but if we must die, then let’s not die as cowards!” Xuvas yelled. “Full speed ahead, and fire everything g we have at their hull!”

“Damage to their ship will likely be negligible!” Trevjan said.

“Trevjan, quiet!”

“My lord, please, we don’t want to die!”

“Quiet or I’ll silence you!”

“Please, I’m begging you, my lord!” Trevjan continued to protest.

In one poorly considered instant, Xuvas backhanded Trevjan and knocked the man from the co-pilot’s chair. Unfortunately, Xuvas misjudged his own strength and knocked Trevjan entirely unconscious.

“Oh no, Lord Xuvas, you killed him!” Orcina cried, swerving around and losing her bearings on the ship’s trajectory.

“He’s still breathing. Fire at will! Focus on the mission!”

“Neria and Kurt are dead!”

“Orcina, ram the enemy warship!”

“We’ll die!”

“We won’t! Ram it, damnit!”

“STOP YELLING AT ME, STOP YELLING AT ME, I CAN’T WORK LIKE THIS!”

A missile slammed into their hull, knocking Orcina’s hands from the throttle. Instead of regaining control of the ship, she just buried her head in her arms and started to weep and blabber incoherently about the dry season in Kaas City. Frustrated but focused, Xuvas picked her up and set her down in Trevjan’s seat, then nearly tripped over Trevjan’s body while taking the controls.

The enormous Republic warship was occupying his entire view as he approached, threatening his life with nothing more than its broad port side facade. At such a distance, Xuvas’ ship was taking a rapid succession of hostile fire ever second, shaking the interceptor so much that the metal ringing hurt his ears.

“Warning: catastrophic damage sustained. Internal electrical fires out of control. Escape pods malfunctioned.”

“There is only passion!” Xuvas screamed as he pushed the throttle as high as the flaming ship could go.

Discharging his Fury’s entire payload and taking an equal amount of fire back, he slammed his ship into the Thranta’s port side ship hangar kamikaze style. Everything went black.


	3. Regrouping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death is a strong motivator, moving both individual hearts and whole civilizations. A proper Sith gentleman should never forget that.

Electricity crackled, fire sizzled, and metal thrummed as Xuvas heaved. Artificial gravity worked against him as he dragged himself and his two pilots upwards out of his ship’s cockpit, sliding to avoid stepping on the floor hard enough to cause any noise. As it was, he had to wrap his hand around Orcina’s mouth to prevent her from giving away their position. He didn’t even know their position, so he certainly didn’t want to announce it to the voices he could hear outside of the ship.

Surprisingly, Orcina hadn’t been knocked out by the crash; the Fury had proven quite resilient considering the amount of punishment it had taken. Multiple direct hits from missiles and laser turrets had only poked holes in the hull; the crash at top speed merely dislodged the already isolated wing tips from the rest of the frame. Since they were within the enemy ship’s magnetically protected hangar, oxygen loss hadn’t been an issue by the time they’d crashed. All things considered, he’d been surprisingly lucky when unwisely flying his personal ship directly into the side of a capital ship. As he dragged his pilots into the unlit common area of the ship, he found the rest of his crew alive and silently waiting.

Huddled in the middle of the tilted common area, his Imperial troopers looked upon him expectantly. Pjiega, his Rattataki retainer, had woken up and put her gear on.

“Even our emergency lights were knocked out,” she whispered as Xuvas dragged the two pilots to the center and dumped them on his non-functioning holoterminal. “We’re dark. The Republic scum outside don’t know that we’re alive.”

Once he was assured that Orcina had gone from weeping to mumbling with her mouth closed in the fetal position, Xuvas crawled upwards to lean in the middle of his troops. “We’ve been given minimal information. There’s a defector on this ship willing to sell classified information to the Republic. We have a...well, a frigate backing us up outside. They’ll pressure the crew of this ship, allowing us to extract the traitor.”

“Location, my lord?” asked Mr. Yash, one of his more experienced troopers.

“I’ve been given two possible spots. I’ll share it on our private cloud now.” Xuvas authorized the location transfer on the mini-drive in his bracers before turning to Pjiega. “Did the droids make it?”

“Not really. They can walk, but they’re malfunctioning.”

“Good. Toss them out of the airlock so whoever’s out there assumes we experienced a total loss. It’s at least one small advantage we can press for surprise.”

“Yes, master,” she whispered while crawling toward the ship’s rear airlock.

Then Xuvas turned toward his four troopers. “I’ll lead the charge; whoever’s out there will discover us eventually. Let us face them valiantly, and let me absorb the brunt of their assault. Push as offensively as possible unless I fall.”

There was a melancholy, though not fearful, silence as the four soldiers seemed at a loss for words. “It’s been an honor, my lord,” Mr. Yash whispered.

“For myself as well. Now...wait for the sound of my saber.”

Slowly, agonizingly slow, they all crawled after his retainer toward the rear exit ramp of the interceptor. Despite their heavy armor, they made nary a sound as they moved on their stomachs like sleen toward Pjiega’s position. When Xuvas heard the sound of droids being singed by lasers, he knew they were ready. Pjiega had wedged herself near the exit ramp’s ceiling, which wasn’t too high since the ship’s center framework had nearly tipped sideways, and she waited silently as the troopers joined her. Outside the broken exit ramp, Xuvas could see flaming debris from his ship, the ship they were in, and his droids. The boots of Republic troopers were clear to him, and they appeared to be on alert. He could exploit that.

Manipulating direction and physical space, he reached out telekinetically and slammed two enemy soldiers into each other, but with a sweeping trajectory perpendicular to the wreckage of his ship. The bodies thudded against each other with sickeningly deep sounds; if the two soldiers weren’t dead, they were at least brain damaged. Like clockwork, the surviving Republic soldiers began to shoot in every direction except for the basically destroyed Fury, granting Xuvas the opportunity to charge down the exit ramp with such momentum that he knocked one of the troopers straight through the hangar’s magnetically sealed airlock and into the freezing void of space.

The blaster fire was fast and furious. Flinching only for a second, Xuvas ignored the tingling sensations as the Republic blaster rifles failed to damage his armor, though his cloak did catch on fire. The fire also didn’t damage his gear, so he continued to wear the flaming cloak for the intimidation effect. Activating his lightsabre, he began to moved in sweeping motions in a threat display as he dashed behind the mass of half a dozen Republic scumbags. Visibly shaken by the burning man waving a lightsabre, the enemy soldiers were easily picked off by Xuvas’ own quarter of soldiers when the latter group snuck out of the wrecked interceptor.

“You two, secure the far end of this hangar. You two, extract the pilots and any salvageable supplies. Pjiega, follow me.”

His military crew swiftly fell into their assignments as he strode across the cluttered hangar toward a handful of Republic soldiers who’d survived. His Fury interceptor was large enough such that its broken parts occupied most of the Thranta corvette’s hangar space anyway, so he didn’t have to walk far before reaching the bleeding enemies.

One of them, a buff Mon Calamari, struggled up to one knee defiantly. “You've entered your tomb, Sith,” the pretzel-colored trooper spat at him.

Xuvas unceremoniously kicked his opponent’s knee away to demonstrate a point. “Name and rank,” he ordered.

“Commander Ghulil of the Brentaal Star,” it replied angrily.

“Who do you answer to?”

Ghulil sneered with its wide lips. “Master Satele Shan.”

Nodding and turning toward a holoterminal at the nearest communication station, Xuvas gave his back to his captives and tried to calm his excitement over his good fortune. “Contact Satele Shan with hostile message,” he spoke out loud, much to the shock of the downed Republic troopers.

After repeating the command two more times, Xuvas watched as the image of the Jedi master herself materialized. Displeased but unfortunately not shocked, she surveyed the devastated hangar. He could feel the resentment boiling within her even as she tried to conceal it from him.

“Do you understand that through your actions now,” she said slowly and almost methodically, “that you’ve forfeited any possibility of mercy?”

Determined to maintain the upper hand, Xuvas looked away from Shan momentarily. “Pjiega, reduce the number of prisoners by half,” he said.

“Yes, master!” she replied with gusto as she activated her vibroaxe. Two of the captives were practically gutted by her in front of the holoterminal, immediately escalating the exchange.

Shan steeled her jaw and paused, this time pulling away whatever anger she felt enough so that Xuvas could no longer feel her reactions. “You only work toward your own destruction, Sith. You’re killing yourself inside.”

“Pjiega, kill that one inside to demonstrate the Jedi’s manifest error.”

“Yes, master!” the Rattataki replied. She actually garnered a scream as she killed another Republic trooper in a painful manner.

Finally, Xuvas could feel the anger radiating from Shan. It was fleeting, momentary, and partially suppressed, but he felt it. And he could have sworn feeling that she knew he’d noticed, making his victory all the sweeter.

“We’ll arrive at your loction in half an hour; you won’t escape by then. Mark my words: the Brentaal Star will be your coffin. You’ve forced my-“

“Pjiega, off with Ghulil’s head. I need to hack this commlink and plaster a picture of it on every monitor and display screen in this ship.”

This time, she didn’t even reply; instead, she carried out the order wordlessly and then held the severed Mon Calamari head up for Satele Shan to see. As if she couldn’t be cheekier, she also lifted the visor of her helmet and grinned.

“Thank you for your response, Jedi,” Xuvas said in sincere gratitude. “Now I know we must be on and off in ten minutes.”

He abruptly shot off the transmission and blocked Shan’s channel code from contacting him again. Finally casting off his smoldering cloak, Xuvas walked back to his full crew, assembled and waiting for orders. Trevjan appeared to be waking up.

“Grand Jedi master Satele Shan has warned us of her arrival in thirty minutes; we must complete this extraction in only ten. Mr. Yash, you’ll accompany Pjiega and I to the last known location of the traitor. The rest of you, prepare two separate Republic shuttles for launch. If there’s time remaining, extract whatever files you can from the computer terminals in the hangar. Do not leave the hangar under any circumstances.”

“Yes, Lord Xuvas!” his troops replied.

“Yes, my lord,” Trevjan sighed while applying a cold press to his face.

“Everything was so calm on Dromund Kaas,” Orcina mumbled distantly. “The dry season was so serene...”

As they all dispersed, Xuvas led his two supporters toward the lift leading into the escape pod unit. His heart was already fluttering, though he maintained the facade of nonchalance for the sake of his crew.

Pjiega leaned close to him inside the lift. “Can we really pull this off in ten minutes, master?” she whispered.

The lift began to move. It sparked and creaked in opposition to use after the immediate area of the hangar had been so damaged by the Fury crashing. Xuvas would be grateful if it could at least function to his destination without stalling out.

“Our lives depend on it,” he replied.


	4. Two Birds or Two Stones?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If there’s one thing Darth Xuvas excels at beyond his peers, it’s recruiting talent. Retaining talent, of course, is another story.

Three Republic fire teams in, and Xuvas was finally beginning to feel the heat.

It wasn’t the literal heat of the electrical fires he and his two followers had set all along the length of the Brentaal Star.

It wasn’t the literal heat of the blaster rifles which had finally caused a measure of damage to his armor, giving him pause as they awaited their last trial.

It wasn’t the literal heat of the concussive grenades which the Republic scum had lobbed at him.

No, the heat he felt as he waited outside a pair of dented doors with a malfunctioning entrance control panel was figurative in nature. Better termed as pressure, perhaps, it weighed in him heavily even as his two followers hastily hacked into the warship’s security system to grant access to the deck containing its escape pods.

He’d promised to complete his mission in ten minutes; fifteen had passed, pushing them close to the thirty-minute deadline by which an entire Republic fleet would arrive. That would follow his ordering the execution of multiple officials in holo, as well as the destruction of most of the Imperial contingent’s starfighters in the now-quiet starbattle outside. The fact that the target for extraction was near all the Brentaal Star’s escape pods only stressed the juggernaut out even more.

Tired of the slow pace, he finally waved his two followers away. “Stand back; the time for stalling is through!”

Pjiega and Mr. Yash both jumped out of the way as Xuvas reached forward in the Force, feeling the double doors, their circular frame, the pistons locking them into place...and the person on the other side focusing like a hawk to keep it all in place. Gritting his teeth, he began to tear at the pistons inside of the reinforced durasteel walls of the ship until he felt them blast backward into their chambers. His opponent on the other side had only been trying to push against him, unaware of his manipulation of the locking mechanism, and he disabled it easily. With the physical barriers removed, he walked up and simply activated the switch to open the doors rather than blasting them open, a rather gentle maneuver which his heretofore unseen opponent hasn’t expected.

When the doors opened, he caught a glimpse of the inappropriately wide and high bay used for escape pods as well as the handful of Republic soldiers ushering a few civilians away. So focused was he on his ultimate target that he didn’t notice his opponent until she stood directly in front of him, blocking his path.

A sturdy, armored Lethan twi’lek held a lightsabre out in front of him as if challenging him to a duel. “I am Yadira Ban of the Jedi Order, defender of the Brentaal Star. You shan’t take another step, Sith-“

“You’re not doing a good job.”

Both of them shook their heads, confused since they talked over each other. “Wait...you shan’t take another step!” she repeated.

“You’re not doing a good job, I said.”

Her lekku twitched in annoyance. “Oh, this conflict hasn’t even begun yet, Sith. And believe me when I tell you that-“

“I mean your defense.”

“I - wait. Wait. I wasn’t finished.”

“I know, but I didn’t want you to progress to a new part of the conversation when I was still commenting on what you’d originally said,” Xuvas said. “So I said what I said now about what you said before now.”

Her face was calm as the Jedi often pretended to be, but he could see her irritation in the way her lekku twitched out of sync. “My defense of this ship? My defense of this ship hasn’t even-“

“The people you meant to protect are mostly-“

“Excuse me, this is not a cross debate!” the red twi’lek exclaimed. “Lives are at stake; this is no time for games, not for either of us!”

“I find it hard to believe that you carry the least bit of concern for the lives of Imperials. The families of my crew are more likely to become orphans at your hands.”

“Then have mercy on them and walk away. If you surrender, I can guarantee that you’ll be taken into custody-“

“No, you’ll be taken into custody.”

“Look, we can’t keep talking over each other like this!”

“Most of the soldiers you’re supposed to protect are dead. That’s why I said you haven’t done a very good job, by the way.”

“What in the galaxy...”

“See, this is why it’s important to slow conversations down when the other person needs to speak. I just made a very salient comment in regard to something you said previously, but now it’s significance may be lost on you because you’re a conversation hog.”

“Excuse me!”

“Your soldiers are dead.”

Unshaken and fanatical to the bitter end like all members of her Order, she shook her head at him in denial. “In ending the lives of so many good people, you only harm yourself,” she replied.

“I have to be honest with you, Yanira, I don’t think I’m harmed as much as all the worthless corpses of Republic soldiers whom I slaughtered. Easily, I might add.”

“It’s Yadira.”

“It’s irrelevant.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You shan’t pull me off-center with your childish taunts, Sith,” she huffed.

“No, but I did distract you enough for my crew to creep out your striking range.”

At first, his comment didn’t register, and she opened her mouth silently as if preparing to fire off another angry verbal missile. When she finally noticed the subtle movements in both sides of her peripheral vision, however, she pursed her lips tightly. Centimeter by centimeter, Pjiega and Mr. Yash has been sliding their feet sideways in order to put distance between themselves and Yadira during the frustrating exchange. They’d formed such a wide circle around her that she wouldn’t be able to attack either of them before Xuvas could strike her down, giving her no choice but to remain facing him.

“When I count three, both of you chase down those Republic scumbags and kill all of them except for the VIP.”

“Yes, Lord Xuvas,” both of his followers replied.

Yadira’s lekku twitched again. “This is a matter of galactic conflict and diplomacy, not a theatric stage,” she scolded.

“The VIP is the heavy guy, by the way. Don’t kill him.”

“Okay,” Pjiega signed in disappointment.

“Do you really think you’re going to outrun me?” Yadira asked them, though they both ignored her.

“One two three go!” Xuvas said rapidly, waving his arms around as if he’d attack Yadira.

Both of his followers ran in a wide arc around the Jedi, barreling toward the Republic soldiers. “Oh, oohhh!” Yadira growled angrily as she tried to dash toward one and then the other, stopping short when Xuvas advances on her. The two followers easily dodged around her, then ignored her as they caught up with the enemy soldiers and pinned the group behind supply crates with suppression fire and a grenade.

Xuvas continued staring Yadira down as the disappointment washed over her face. “Fooled by running around in circles, the oldest trick in the book,” he said disparagingly.

“Is this some kind of a joke?!”

“Not really. By the way, half of those soldiers are dead now. Look, one of them just got decapitated.”

Yadira refused to turn around. “I won’t fall for your childish tricks so easily!” she shouted.

“What the...you just fell for the most childish trick I could possibly have pulled off, why would you even utter a sentence like this? It just makes you look silly.” Xuvas assumed a more passive stance, ignoring the lightsaber she was waving in his face. “It’s over, Yanira.”

“Yadira!”

“Save yourself. Sheath your weapon.”

“I won’t fall for that one!”

“You what? Oh...” he signed, facepalming over his mask. “Look, this time I’m actually not tricking you; I’m helping you. You haven’t harmed any of my soldiers, and I can have you granted immunity for any past crimes you’ve committed.”

“The Jedi do not commit crimes, Sith!”

He held his hand out to her. “You say that word as if you aren’t one of us,” he said calmly.

“You can’t trick me that easily-“

“Yes I could. I just tricked you with a really dumb, unsophisticated trick. I can trick you again if I want to because you’ve obviously been brainwashed by all that naive peacenick nonsense of the Jedi. And I’m a bit bothered by it, to be frank, because you’re articulate to the point that I can tell you do have an impressive intellect. It’s not right.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere. Arm yourself!”

“No,” he replied. “Listen to me. I’ve set plenty of your species free in my time, and I know your lekku movements. I can see your anger...I can feel it.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“Please. We’re both strong in the Force; I feel you as well as you feel me right now. I feel how your presence pulses stronger every time I grate on your nerves. I know how you’re being held back.”

“Stay back!” she shouted when he stepped forward, though she paused momentarily when the last Republic trooper death-groaned. “One more step and I’ll end you!”

“Then I won’t take another step yet. We Sith respect fury, and passion, and we act and react based on it. And right now, Yanira, I see it in you. I see it in your nose, the way your nostrils flare. I see it in your brow, the way you’re straining so hard to keep from glaring at me. I see it in your lekku the way you’re struggling to prevent them from curling.

“You’re a powerhouse of emotion, Yanira. You’ve just been tricked for too long, taken advantage of. Your anger has been denied for so long that it’s misdirected. It isn’t fair.”

“Don’t-“ She stopped herself, seemingly in shock at the rage in her own voice. “Don’t talk down to me.”

“Join us,” Xuvas repeated, holding his hand out again. “This warship is too damaged to survive, the entire crew is dead, and you can’t stall me until Shan arrives all by yourself. But I can help you be more than an undervalued Padawan assigned babysitting duty for a bunch of incompetent troopers.”

Defiant but in denial, Yadira shook her head and readied her lightsaber again. “You won’t manipulate me, Sith.”

“I think we’ve established that I’m perfectly capable of manipulating you if I want to; the fact that I’m extending this offer is an indication that I’m not trying to this time.”

“Back off!”

“I didn’t move, Yanira.”

“I said back off!”

“I’m not moving; your whole perspective has been skewed by the Jedi. Look at what self-denial and forced monasticism is doing to your brain. You could be more than this.”

“I’d only be a slave - I’m not stupid!”

“Then riddle me this. Why are so many so-called ‘alien’ species training on Korriban now? Because we know that the Republic outnumbers us. Look, check Republic intelligence dossiers on me - I’m a member of abolitionist groups. I can ensure that you’d be a free person due to your Force sensitivity. The Empire is changing. You could be a part of a change with us, and not just a babysitter.”

His last comment was ill-timed and a tad too harsh. Unable to bear the lecturing when all the people she’d ever worked with had been killed, Yadira ran forward. She was strong, Xuvas knew that much - her presence in the Force was as heavy as that of a rancor matriarch. Her anger broke through, glowing out of her eyes as she charged at him. Taking a big risk, Xuvas felt her passion burn the whole deck as she closed in on him but remained standing. He believed in his heart that the dark side would prevail; he lived and breathed the Sith Code. That conviction, he came to later believe, made the difference between a swift death and a resounding success.

At the very last second, Yadira pulled her swing, jerking her arms away. In shock at the volume of her own Force scream, she froze, afraid of herself and the rage she didn’t know she bore. They looked each other in the eye, and Xuvas did feel his heart rate jump a little despite his belief that she’d see the truth.

Panting heavily despite barely having acted, the twi’lek let her jaw drop open and her hands shake. “I...I...you’re a murderer...you deserve to die,” she said, more to herself than to him. “I am a Jedi...there is no passion...”

“Look at that power,” he said with a calm he had to partially fake. “Look at what you could unleash.”

Like a child discovering her favorite holiday gift bringer wasn’t real, Yadira froze for far too long, her mind muddled and unable to act. “No, this is just you. You’re doing this to me. I...” She looked at the nightsaber in her hands. “Death before dishonor...”

In her moment of confusion, he Force-grabbed her weapon to disarm her. “Please understand that this isn’t personal,” he said as she tried to grab her weapon back. “I believe in you, not because I know you, but because I recognize talent.”

Despite her great power, she was shocked and off-balance. Thus she was unprepared when Force-screamed at her so loudly that she buckled under the kinetic damage and flew backward into a column. She was tough, and not particularly hurt, but she was also distracted long enough for him to activate a pair of levitating shackles designed specifically to restrain Force-sensitives.

More in a state of shock than truly surrendering or even accepting what he’d said, Yadira let her lekku droop down and held a simple defensive posture. She wasn’t in the least bit afraid, but she did seem a bit embarrassed at having been captured without a fight.

Once she’s been neutralized, Mr. Yash approaches them. “My lord, we have the VIP, and the marines have gathered at the nearest hangar. The one we didn’t destroy by crashing a ship into it. Our time is growing short.”

“Our ship is lost, but if the marines have shuttles, then our cause is not. Tell them that we’re on the way with two VIPs.” Xuvas looked around, noticing that only the three of them were there. “Where’s Pjiega?” he asked apprehensively.

“She left with the traitor to the hangar already. She, uh...she kept grabbing his hands and hitting him in the face with his own hands and asking him why he was hitting himself. I was a bit scare...uh, I meant to ask her to stop, but she left with him too quickly when the marines called.”

“Yes, that sounds like her. It’s okay, she knows not to kill him. Let’s just move; we need to leave.” Xuvas waved at Yadira, and Mr. Yash took her by the arm like a shackled felon. She was conflicted and possibly still directing her anger at him, but he was patient. “This might turn out to be worth losing my ship over...though I have a feeling that I’ll have to argue the case with the Moff.”


	5. Return of the Stoned Birds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darth Xuvas begins the first true test of his power of persuasion. Unfortunately, outside forces are intent on testing his powers of evasion instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This assumes a realistic interior design for the Black Talon; the in-game interior would proportionally be larger than a Harrower (I measured in game).

Two Imperial assault shuttles and two more stolen Republic shuttles skidded to a halt inside the Black Talon’s starship hangar, knocking over a few stacks of supply crates in their mad rush to beat the clock. The four of them took up nearly all the space of the hangar, the ship being a transport, and the technicians and astromech droids scattered about. The lieutenant on call rushed in between the vehicles, waiting until a battered Sith warrior exited. Neither of them minced words.

“All personnel and targets are aboard; we’re done,” Xuvas said through the partially damaged mouthpiece of his mask and helmet.

The lieutenant only nodded and jogged back toward the hangar’s commlink. “We’re ready; send the word to the bridge! Lock down the hangar doors!”

“Yes sir!” one of the ensigns replied while pushing buttons furiously.

As if his own crew members couldn’t embarrass him further, Orcina screamed as she exited the shuttle, and Trevjan gasped and lost consciousness again. At first Xuvas only grumbled, but when the unnecessarily loud alarm systems of the transport ship rang, he turned around.

Out of hyperspace, multiple Republic capital ships emerged. The small contingent was large enough to take on a deadnaught, and there was no doubt as to whom it belonged.

“They need to move! Mayday!” the lieutenant yelled.

“I’m trying, sir!” the ensign exclaimed.

An ion cannon on the tip of the lead warship - likely Shan’s - began to visibly charge. The corvettes surrounding it activated their turbolasers, striking the side of the Black Talon’s hull and perpetuating the annoying alarm. When the images began to distort due to the entrance of hyperspace, Xuvas breathed a sigh of relief, and Pjiega dragged Orcina and Trevjan away to a bench in the corner like two kids throwing temper tantrums.

The lieutenant wiped her forehead once the vessel entered hyperspace, and the hangar staff seemed to take the cue that they could be at ease. Xuvas waved the rest of the marines out of the shuttles, leaving them to the care of the flight specialists. The lieutenant’s countenance lit up when she saw the extracted VIP.

“General,” she said sarcastically while waving for the marines to take the man away.

When his own troopers exited the shuttles, Xuvas approached the lieutenant with a prisoner of his own, though a minor scandal was caused when her armor was seen.

“Lieutenant, we apprehended another significant individual formerly affiliated with the Republic in the process,” Xuvas said, ignoring the murmurs of the hangar crew as they backed away from the dangerous yet downcast Lethan twi’lek.

The lieutenant eyed Yadira up and down suspiciously, but focused on the shackles. “Those are your own devices; assurance from your part that they’ll hold is assumed.”

“As it should be; she’s agreed to cooperate, but for the sake of security protocol, she’s accepted them as a formality.” Yadira’s lekku twitched in irritation again, and Xuvas became very aware of the large number of people in an enclosed space. He leaned a little closer to the lieutenant. “I need to keep her in the brig for now. Just for everything to calm down on board.”

The lieutenant on duty in the hangar hesitated, and Xuvas could feel the lack of faith within her. “Very well...I can arrange for that, the sooner the better. Could I request that you escort the prisoner yourself, my lord? It would be reassuring to the troops due to her...ah...potential for damage.”

“I’ll ensure that no such damage occurs; you have my word, as well as my thanks for your cooperation.”

“Of course, my lord.” The lieutenant then turned to a few Imperial marines. “Please see our guest’s crew members to the ready room for debriefing and then accommodation. As for this one,” she said while motioning toward Yadira, “To the furthest end of the brig. Lord Xuvas will assist.”

“Yes sir,” two marines replied.

Mr. Yash and Xuvas’ trooper’s gathered up his two pilots, leaving through a separate door in the hallway leading out of the hangar. Xuvas slowed down as he followed two of the transport ship’s own military personnel into the depths, matching the captured Lethan’s pace. Although he didn’t turn to face her, he could sense her confusion and resentment settle around his persona. Since she could most assuredly predict his feelings as well, though, he wouldn’t be able to draw any exceptional advantages other than her being surrounded by Imperial troops.

“I regret the circumstances of your accompaniment. However, your stability given what’s transpired is admirable. Know that, given the changes afoot in the Empire, your future could be quite bright-“

“There is no brightness in the dark side,” Yadira said acrimoniously.

He stopped speaking as they walked through the corridors of the ship, both to wait for the handfuls of personnel to pass by nervously as well as to gauge her condition. When they’d passed by all interlopers, he merely tried to cultivate her internal conflict into a more manageable state of introspection. “Semantics can increase the confusion all sentients face. Power can be drawn from mastering that confusion regardless of labels rather than denying its existence.”

Yadira shook her head. “Everything I’d worked towards...the entire life I’d built...it’s all gone now. Because of you.”

He could sense her doubts growing. “You’re welcome; I mean that,” he replied confidently as they followed the marines into the brig proper. “The Jedi disrespected you with such an assignment. You have so much raw talent that even I could feel it despite not knowing you...I truly feel, in my heart, that you will come to realize the favor I’ve done you.”

Xuvas was the one who came to a realization when Yadira stiffened up; he’d pushed a bit too far and at the wrong time. They were deep in the brig, a mostly empty and drab location, standing in front of her magnetically sealed cell designed for Force-sensitives. He should have paid closer attention to their surroundings; he’d made a stupid mistake.

She stared at the empty cell blankly, making the two marines visibly uncomfortable. As if his luck couldn’t get any worse, one of the two had to open his big mouth.

“Right this way-“

“So I really am a slave now,” she said harshly, cutting the man off in mid-sentence.

“Ignore him,” Xuvas said while glaring at the marine until the now bashful man stepped away. “If you’ll allow me to explain-“

“It was all a lie to distract me, wasn’t it?”

“Yadira Ban...you posses a power which even impressed me. No official in their right mind would fail to recognize that-“

“I passed all tests at the academy, how could I be so easily tricked!” Yadira said with an increasing hard edge to her voice. The lights in the brig flickered, causing the marines to step further away.

“The way it ended wasn’t a trick, Yadira; I’ll ensure that any officials who attempt to deny your deserved rank will meet their end on my saber.” At that comment, he noticed her eyes flick down to his lightsabre hinged on his belt. “Yadira Ban.”

Closing her eyes and pursing her lips tightly, he could feel the anger boiling up inside of her. It was brilliant, just what he wished to cultivate, but misdirected. “Yadira,” he repeated when he saw her fingers flex.

“I’m a Jedi! My emotions will not control me!” she exclaimed, clearly missing the irony of her mild breakdown. “I will not succumb to the corruption of the dark side!”

“It’s a spectrum, Yadira; the Sith Order has begun to change in more flexible ways due to...recent events. Don’t deny your passion...just embrace it in a healthy manner.” The two marines gave him an odd look but thankfully shut up. “You’re experiencing a glorious change, one that will take time. You’re only down here for your own safety-“

He lost her for a split second. Surprising him with her speed, she Force-grabbed his lightsabre from his belt. He was thankfully fast enough to grab the other end of it and twisted, turning the blade away from them both. He Force-pushed the two marines against the wall non-fatally when they tried to shoot her, holding firm on his weapon and pulling her close despite the sudden murderous look in her eyes.

“Don’t sacrifice your passion due to ambivalence about me!” he urged her. “Under my tutelage or not, you can be so much more than a babysitter for illegal espionage! Refine your rage and focus it where it belongs!”

“You took away my position in the order!” Yadira hissed while trying to turn his saber up to stab him. There was no fragility in her at all, just like what the Empire needed in fresh converts. She began to Force-push against him, denting the steam pipes on the wall behind him in the process. “You put me in these chains!”

Frustrated that he was getting nowhere in such a conversation, he admitted temporary defeat and nodded to his ever-present retainer; unlike the marines, Pjiega knew him well enough to wait until called upon.

“Ack!” Yadira growled as Pjiega dropped an elbow on the back of the Lethan’s neck. Metal hinges snapped into place a second later, and Yadira clawed at her own throat despite being dazed on the floor. Too dizzy to react furiously again, the downed knight simply tried to fight to a kneeling position.

Trying to show sympathy, Xuvas knelt down in front of Yadira, confident that the Lethan would listen once Pjiega had put her own former slave collar around the red woman’s neck. “Temporarily, yes; I will not stop apologizing, either. I truly am sorry. But as you’ll come to see, I will break you free of both these physical and the Jedi Order’s mental chains in time.” He waited until she looked up at him with a mixture of smoldering resentment and reluctant resignation. “I told you that I believe in your potential. Even after this...incident, I still believe in you.”

He turned his head up to Pjiega. He’d freed the Rattataki from slavery and could count on her as his most loyal follower. He hoped she’d understood the value of leading rather than controlling and would pass on that same cultivation now that she’d been given the chance. “The gun used to apply barcodes to prisoners is at the brig’s control station,” he said, snapping their Lethan captive out of stupor rather fast. “Revisit your creative side, Pjiega, because Yadira needs our help to fully embrace her new identity. Cover ever feasible centimeter of her with the necessary Sith tattoos.”

“Yes, master-“

“How DARE you!!!”

Every piece of glass in the brig shattered, every monitor flickered into static. The sound of Yadira’s recalcitrant scream was actually painful to hear, and truth be told, the Lethan even surprised Xuvas with the strength of her outburst. She, however, let her jaw drop open immediately thereafter, as if afraid of the sound that came out of her own mouth.

Xuvas reached out and laid a consoling hand on her shoulder. Ever so slowly, she looked up at him, the two kneeling as she struggled to come to terms with the beast she realized had been caged inside of her.

“You’re Sith through and through; you just needed a hand to guide you. You can thank me later.” Rising and stepping backward, he watched as her lekku laid motionless over her shoulders, as if his exit signifies the finality of her transformation. “This is the beginning of a grand new stage; your conversion will inspire others to follow.”

Overwhelmed, she didn’t reply, only kneeling and staring at the floor as he left. Framed by the doorway to the brig, the effect of the rectangular opening around her looked rather picturesque, and he felt an upswell of pride at having catalyzed a former Jedi’s metamorphosis. A second later, the image was cut off when Pjiega stepped in between them, her backside blocking the view of all else through the doorway. With the tattoo gun raised in one hand and a bolt remover to dismantle the Lethan’s armor held in the other, his Rattataki retainer seemed rather eager to adopt another crew member with anger issues into their fold. The automatic door of the brig shut, however, leaving Xuvas to handle the possibly tendentious issue of compensation for his success.

Unsure of the exact layout of a Gage-class transport, the Sith pureblood wandered around until he passed by a mini-holoterminal with the image of Lieutenant Sylas, one of the officials from the bridge.

“Lord Xuvas, there you are,” she said in relief when he passed by. “Congratulations on the mission success.”

“To you as well, Lieutenant. The aerospace cover of this ship’s starfighters was indispensable.”

“Why, thank you, my lord. It’s truly an honor coming from the likes of you. I have to say, though, the crowning achievement was the time bomb you planted in the engine room. Our sensors tracked the homing devices we’d dropped on the Brentaal Star; it exploded moments after we entered hyperspace. It was a total loss of the warship.”

“We seem to have succeeded resoundingly from all angles, then,” Xuvas replied, only then noticing that a considerable amount of standard time had passed. “I assume that I’ll need to be debriefed before we exit hyperspace and contact the admiral?”

“That would be much appreciated, my lord. Our situation room is located here in the bridge. I can have a trail of breadcrumbs projected on all mini-terminals to lead you to the elevators.”

“Good news. I’ll see you momentarily, Lieutenant Sylas.”

Following the projected images, Xuvas eventually found his way to the ship’s bridge. Admiration and distrust competed for dominance on the faces of the naval personnel as he entered, and he could tell that the transport ship’s crew must have been polarized around the high-stakes operation they’d undertaken. At the front of the bridge, for the first time, he met Sylas and Orzik face-to-face.

“Lord Xuvas, pleased to make your acquaintance,” Orzik said with a bow. The ship commander’s greeting seemed less sincere than Sylas’ austere nod.

“Yes. Quite.” Once he was sure that he’d clarified how underwhelmed he felt, he continued. “I trust my crew members, as well as this ship’s marines, have been debriefed.”

“That’s true, my lord.”

“Then we can inform the admiral of mission success once we exit hyperspace. My own ship was lost alongside the Brentaal Star, so I’ll expect Moff Kilran to provide passage. That will most likely fall to you and your crew.”

“I understand. In just a few moments, we’ll reach our planned destination - an empty pocket between star systems which should be safe for us to exit and rest.” Orzik looked down the bridge to a few crew members, one of whom gave a thumbs up. “Exit hyperspace now.”

“Yes, sir,” a trio of crew members lower down replied.

“Brukarra, contact the admiral now.”

A youngish ensign at a communications terminal began typing. “Yes, sir,” she replied.

Moff Kilran’s image appeared in the bridge’s holoterminal, the familiar angry smile covered in scars beaming. “Darth Xuvas, congratulations. I was watching the whole scene on your helmet’s holocast stream.”

“Thank you, Admiral.”

“This was a great victory for the Empire; a transport ship bested a warship, extracted a traitor before military secrets were shared, and evaded the fleet of Satele Shan herself. I’m impressed.” Kilran paused, his angry smile becoming more pronounced. “There’s only one order of business which I think warrants explanation, though.”

Xuvas could already tell what was coming. “Our adoptee,” he replied, trying hard not to sigh.

“Yes. That. From the outside looking in, and I say this with all due respect, what I can see is a particularly dangerous Jedi knight being granted room and board on a transport ship that is, after the initial boarding raid fought off by Ironfist, functioning with only a skeleton crew.”

“That’s a perfectly reasonable assessment, Admiral. In a standard case, this would have been an unacceptable risk.”

The angry smile turned a little more sincere, if only because Kilran seemed to derive entertainment from the opportunity for passive-aggressive complaints. “I’m thrilled at the idea of learning the unique features of this case on our hands,” the moff replied. The challenge toward a member of the Sith Order was clear, and much of the bridge crew suddenly focused more intensely on their duties in order to pretend it wasn’t happening.

Xuvas knew that Kilran had more to offer than he did, and thus played a more modest strategy. “I’m a disciple of Darth Aruk, lord of the Sphere of Philosophy; ideological discipline and anti-Jedi publicity is our specialty. The recent victory on Balmorra was possible in large part not to the efforts of outreach officials, but due to my mass conversion of native Balmorran leaders.”

“What percent of them were members of the Jedi Order?” Kilran asked.

“The question lacks validity because there are no native Balmorrans in the Jedi Order currently; one might as well ask about how many thrantas I slayed on Ziost.”

The angry smile pulled into a pain old sneer. “You do realize that the ship, and the VIP you extracted, could be at risk due to her presence.”

“She’s contained in a cell designed for Force-sensitives, restrained by shackles designed for Force-sensitives. If the ship’s brig can’t perform the task it was designed for, then the 5th Fleet has bigger problems than a simple traitor whom, to begin with, I’m authorized to kill at any time.”

This time, Xuvas caused the nervous whispers with a retort audacious even by his standards. He actually felt a little bad making such an implication given Kilran’s stellar reputation as a field commander, and he tried to make amends before the admiral spoke again.

“If you please, Admiral, allow me to clarify one matter to you: I’m Imperial before I’m Sith.” A few people on the bridge, Sylas included, appeared shocked, and Kilran’s craggy face loosened. “The purity in my blood doesn’t elevate me above the wellbeing of the galactic civilization we’ve all forged. Mark my words when I say that the safety concerns of this ship, of your fleet, of our people, is beyond the importance of my own family members.

“My life will end before this mission does; may I be disgraced by history if I fail to uphold these words. But I must insist, following from this clarification, that my efforts against the Jedi Order be accepted. If we resign ourselves to defensive maneuvers and damage control only, then we’ve already lost.”

“You construe this capture as part of some wider struggle?” Kilran asked, and for the first time the moff sounded sincerely interested, if skeptical.

“All my existence drives toward the stability of the Empire; the day that purpose ends will be the day I retire. Rest assured: you will receive this traitor alive, and this entire incident will be reversed into a tactical strike against the Republic rather than a mere recovery mission.”

The silence was agonizing for the younger crew members, and their anxiety grated on the Sith warrior’s nerves. The admiral appeared to actually be considering the idea, raising Xuvas’ hopes greatly; Imperial protocols on interaction between normal military personnel and members of the Sith Order were fuzzy, and given the mistrust he could feel on the bridge, he doubted he’d have broad support were he and the moff to openly contradict one another.

Avoiding a disastrous confrontation, Kilran actually appeared to speak with a measure of warmth. “Very well...I accept,” the admiral replied. “I’ll support you should my peers raise issue with the risk assessment aspect.”

“You have my thanks, Admiral.”

“And you have mine, Darth.”

“The only outstanding issue from my side is the total loss of my ship during the mission.”

“Yes, alongside much of the starfighter squadron involved,” Kilran replied flippantly, his precious warmth shutting off as if on a switch.

“I want the Black Talon as compensation.”

“What!?” exclaimed Commander Orzik.

“Oh no!” Brukarra cried.

Sylas appeared less bothered. “Interesting proposition,” she said quietly.

For the very first and last time, Xuvas saw Rycus Kilran laugh. Truth be told, it was a pleasant sounding laugh, not at all expected given the admiral’s attitude and visage. All activity on the bridge stopped, more because of the anomaly of Kilran laughing than the outrageous suggestion from Xuvas.

Looked up a little more, Kilran’s constant edginess began to fade. “Do tell,   
Darth Xuvas: What in the galaxy makes you feel you deserve that, you can feasibly have that, and you can convince me of that?”

Determined to convert Kilran, albeit from a different aspect, the juggernaut accepted the challenge. “You purposefully misled me about the mission due to the failure of the Mandalorians prior to me, you initiated the attack before my arrival in contradiction of what I was told, I accepted the mission from you without having solicited for it, and at the end of the standard day, this is a transport ship wasting fuel on trips always under quote for cargo and passengers and thus not truly serving the 5th Fleet.

“But if you turn legal ownership over to me...then I’ll do what I did now as a regular habit. The Sphere of Philosophy will open resources to the publicity and security needs of your fleet on my recommendation, and you’ll end up taking public credit for all of this as the original planner of the idea.

“Sign over the Black Talon to me, and you’ll find a massive return on a modest investment. I guarantee it as strongly as I guaranteed the capture of this traitor.”

One of the technicians dropped a pin from her hair bun, causing a veritable cacophony when the pin dropped. The high-risk moves were quickly becoming a habit: Xuvas had put the final decision into the admiral’s hands, trusting that a man with a fake smile wouldn’t disappoint him. His heart raced as he watched Kilran seriously considering the offer, stressing him out far more than the battles on the Brentaal Star had.

At least he was prepared for the unnecessarily loud sound of the ship’s alarm again.

Crew members screamed and jumped when the red lights flashed and the familiar doomsday sound of the alarm filled their ears. People frantically staffed their battle stations, and Xuvas turned alongside the bridge officers toward the bridge’s viewing port to cash the white streaks of light materializing.

Satele Shan’s fleet popped out of hyperspace right in front of them.


	6. A Hard Bargain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief respite for our characters, and a jump-start for this story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t own Star Wars.

Panic ensued in the bridge as technicians scrambled to and fro. Kilran’s angry smile faded into a terrifying outright scowl.

“Get them under control!” the Moff ordered Orzik.

“To your stations! To your stations or you’re all heading to the brig!” Orzik shouted, though his threat seemed to have little effect.

“We entered hyperspace,” Sylas said, “how can this be?”

Xuvas cleared his throat, receiving the Moff’s attention and ire (they seemed to be one and the same at that point). “Some of your marines hijacked Republic shuttles from the Brentaal Star; they did so prior to my arrival at the hangar,” he explained calmly despite the dispatch of starfighter’s from Satele Shan’s ship. “It’s likely that they contain homing devices. As soon as we exited hyperspace, our position could be tracked again.”

“Jettison both of those Republic shuttles,” Kilran ordered through sneering lips.

“I’m sending the orders now!” Orzik said while shoving his communications officer aside and accessing the terminal himself.

“We’ve been hit by two more boarding pods!” Brukarra cried.

Captain Orzik quickly looked to Xuvas. “My lord, these are likely Shan’s Republic elites - our remaining marines need your help!”

In the midst of the chaos as Shan’s ship began to fire, Xuvas folded his arms behind his back and shook his head. “No,” he replied calmly.

“What!” screamed the entire bridge.

Moff Kilran’s image loomed over the Sith. “This isn’t an opportune moment for humor,” he said, any semblance of a smile long gone from his face.

Xuvas stood firm, even in the face of a Moff who could likely call in favors with higher ranking Sith and have him jailed. He’d been taking so many risks that day cycle that he almost felt numb to it.

“I fulfilled my end of our bargain; my work is, in the legally binding sense, over. I’m a passenger aboard this ship, bearing no more responsibility to it than the mercenaries who’ve been allowed aboard.”

Clearly panicking, Captain Orzik stood in front of the holoterminal. “Admiral, Ironfist and his band are below decks. We can offer them everything we have to handle this boarding party!”

“We’re taking hull damage from Shan’s armada!” Brukarra cried again, though she seemed to work surprisingly well even while panicking.

Xuvas tutted his tongue, and to Orzik’s dismay, Kilran devoted more attention to the Sith than the ship’s crew. “Those Mandalorians suffered heavy losses in the last boarding event, according to what I was told by the marines on the Brentaal Star. They aren’t equipped for a Republic elite party which probably includes Jedi.”

Sylas looked to the captain. “He’s right,” she whispered.

“Lieutenant!” Orzik whispered back harshly, though he could offer no logical response.

The ship shook with the force of turbolazer blasts, and remote images of the Republic boarding party flashed on multiple screens. In the middle of a dozen pairs of staring eyes, Moff Kilran glowered at the Sith, any pretense of awe or fear of the man in black cast aside. The scrambling ensigns and technicians may not have noticed, but Xuvas certainly did.

Not even bothering to narrow his eyes, the Moff simply wiped away most of the emotion from his face, and the Sith could feel a barrier rising. He was playing with fire.

“Your claims to honoring the 5th Fleet with your actions appear highly suspect, Darth Xuvas. Think very hard about your next move.”

Statuesque and stoic, Xuvas faced down the Moff as he would Shan. “You misled me into a suicide mission; I accepted, succeeded, and exceeded expectations. So far, I’ve seen nothing in return for my efforts - not even acceptance of my offer to put this vessel to better use. That’s the bottom line of the report Darth Aruk will read when my obituary, and those of this entire crew, reach him.”

When Kilran’s insincere, angry smile peeled back the corner of the man’s scarred face, Xuvas felt the subtle rush of victory awaiting him, but he controlled himself. He still had yet to play his trump card with the Moff.

“Grant me Private ownership of the Black Talon, and you'll find that what you witnessed on the Brentaal Star was a warmup; this vessel and the life of its crew will be in my hands rather than mine in theirs. I’ll propagandize the entire galaxy with news of our victory under your orders and then move beyond. Even to the Esseles.”

“Admiral, please, we must entire hyperspace-“

“Quiet, Captain,” Kilran nonchalantly ordered Orzik, filling the captain’s eyes with defeat as the Moff ignored the firefight going on outside. Rather than smiling angrily, the Moff turned his chin up and regarded the Sith much in the fashion that a Hutt would when faced with a deal too good to be true. “What do you know about the Esseles?” Moff Kilran asked to the sound of photon torpedoes being shot down by drones.

Working hard to contain his excitement, Xuvas tried to play his last hand of cards as best he could. He had little else to offer if this didn’t work. “I know that a 5th Fleet battlecruiser sent to intercept it was recently destroyed in secret, and that the Republic has been holding on to that knowledge as a threat for nearly a standard galactic week,” he said.

“And I also know that it still carries Ambassador Vyn Asara, whose work in undermining our alliances runs directly opposite to my outreach efforts.

“And I know that with a vessel and crew of this size under my command, I can effectively magnify our power to succeed where a large, unwieldy, overconfident battlecruiser group failed.”

This time, the two of them had no audience for their staredown since the bridge crew were all running around like headless chickens. Moff Kilran’s image stared down at him, unmoving yet considering the proposition. The Admiral truly did hold the upper hand, but the juggernaut was banking in the fact that the Admiral also had nothing to lose (since the transport ship would likely be lost without effective leadership anyway) and everything to gain (since the man had seen Xuvas succeed in a suicide mission which had likely been intended as cannon fodder).

In the end, the slow return of Kilran’s latently irate, almost condescending smile, celebrated the Sith’s victory for him.

“Enter hyperspace now and exit again at the coordinates I’m sending; I’ve scrambled Shan’s communication link, so she won’t follow,” Kilran said.

Xuvas grinned wide behind his mask. “So our droids will repair the hull there, once I’ve wiped out the boarding party during our hyperspace jump?” he asked.

“Precisely. Once your repairs are underway, I’ll send the coordinates of the Esseles.”

“Do we have enough fuel?”

“Yes; the Esseles will be located close enough to lanes leading to Alderaan by then. I’ll inform the House of Thul to receive you as guests.”

Though he didn’t salute the Admiral, nor did the Admiral salute him - indeed, Imperial protocols put their interactions in a grey area - Xuvas relaxed and held a fist to his heart. “May this be the beginning of a mutually beneficial relationship,” he said.

For a split second, the anger in Kilran’s smile turned to a form of condescending amusement. If the Admiral found the young Sith’s lust for the ship to be quaint, then he didn’t conceal his sentiments well; if not, then he did a poor job of expressing his begrudging respect.

“Of course. If you survive, then you’ll enter Alderaan as the owner of the Black Talon and the vanquisher of two high-profile Republic ships. I’m sure your Sphere will relish the opportunities for propaganda against House Organa.”

Kilran’s smile faded, and the truth of the cunning, distant, results-oriented naval official broke through. “Kilran out,” he said harshly just before his holoimage disappeared.

Xuvas didn’t waste time. Taking the helm and pushing everyone aside (and almost over), he commandeered the intercom for the entire ship. “Hyperdrive,” he said without pretense or warning as he activated the jump into hyperspace.

If one person had been paying attention through the chaos, it was the captain. Humbled yet reluctant, he couldn’t make eye contact as he saluted. “It is an honor to serve you, Lord Xuvas,” he forced himself to say.

Playing the role of leader, Xuvas regarded the captain respectfully. “It is an honor to be served by you and the crew, and to save the Black Talon to fight another day. You know your job best, Captain; take my ship to the coordinates sent by the Admiral. Engage in repairs immediately once we exit hyperspace and run all necessary diagnostics.”

“Yes, my lord,” Orzik sighed, though he at least looked the Sith in the eye.

“Were Those Republic shuttles disposed of as I asked?”

“One moment, my lord. Brukarra?”

The frazzled communications officer knocked over her tablet and thermos, seeeping her entire communications link with trembling hands. “Both appropriated shuttles were jettisoned and destroyed before we entered hyperspace, sir,” she stammered.

“Good. As you were, Captain. In the meantime, I need to enter the second level deck and deal with this stranded boarding party.”

“Of course. Lieutenant?”

Sylas saluted Orzik in reply before turning to Xuvas. “This way, my lord.” The two of them walked to the elevators at the end of the bridge. She didn’t mince words or waste time; Xuvas liked her more than Orzik. “You must take the elevator one level down. Walk around the corner into the main atrium and you should find the Republicans and Mandalorians engaged.”

“Thank you,” he said as the elevator closed. The soundproof walls prevented him from previewing the conflict, though battle was generally the least of his worries. Working up his fury and adrenaline would actually take a bit of work.

As soon as the elevator door opened, he was faced with an explosion which pushed him against the back wall. The charred upper half of an armless Imperial combat droid, the severed arm of a mercenary, and shrapnel lay about him. His adrenaline rush started on its own.

Strolling out into the atrium of the transport ship’s common area, Xuvas gazed upon the damage done to the formerly splendid interior. A fit of jealous rage welled up inside of him as it finally dawned on him that the ship was his property, and that it was being defiled. Tapestries from Korriban burned alongside organic plant life, and destroyed furniture littered the floor. A dozen surviving Imperial marines were pinned behind cover by only four Republic soldiers; as many Mandalorians darted uselessly behind pillars near the ceiling, the novelty of their jet packs doing little against the deflection of their projectiles by a Force user. Xuvas shook his head in disappointment as he probed for the Jedi among the hostiles.

Leaping through the air once he’d found his rival, the juggernaut kept his weapon sheathed as he walked toward the thin Miraluka consular with his arms open. Their attention drawn, the Republic commandos fired their blasters at him, only for the energy beams to fail at damaging Xuvas’ armor beyond surface scratches. The marines and mercenaries both capitalized, firing past the Sith at the commandos from three directions.

Holding his hands out, the consular reached deep into the Force, far deeper than was necessary to block laser beams. He was pushing too hard, digging too deep, and had obviously been challenged by whatever had transpired before the Sith’s arrival. However, his attempt at a barrier only covered his troops from two directions; marines stationed behind the hostile group in the center of the atrium quickly gunned down the commandos, forcing the latter to crawl behind soft cover and cease returning fire.

Still unarmed, Xuvas came within reach of the consular, breaking the physically frail man’s focus. Mental and spiritual strength beamed from him, and Xuvas regretted a circumstance which prevented him from taking any more prisoners.

Immediately, the consular attempted to Force shove the juggernaut hard enough such that a heavy potted plant behind them flew into their air. Meeting strength with strength, Xuvas pushed right back, neutralizing the consular’s efforts in a shoving match nobody could see with the naked eye. Not content to wait the fatigued Miraluka out, Xuvas went one step further - literally - and released one hand from his Force push, grabbing his opponent by the robe collar. The assault was enough to disrupt the consular’s concentration, and Xuvas was able to stop Force pushing with his other hand and absorb the remainder of the consular’s blast, merely allowing himself to be knocked back a step. The Miraluka was defenseless when Xuvas pulled out his lightsaber and impaled the eyeless man on it.

Inspired by the display, the remaining Imperial marines rushed forward and broke the cover of the Republic commandos, swiftly executing the latter. The Mandalorians, however, seemed less than pleased as they landed to inspect the corpses.

Chest puffed out with all the bravado of an uncultured nomad, one of the more decorated mercenaries regarded the Sith haughtily. “Ironfist died fighting off all of these boarding parties; the final kill was rightfully ours!” the mercenary in proudly damaged armor said acrimoniously. “Who are you?” he asked while jabbing a finger at the Sith’s chest.

Noticing a gap where the mercenary’s wrist armor was less thick, Xuvas swiftly brought up his saber and severed the hand pointing at him. The man groaned and fell back to his allies, who moved to open fire.

“I’m a Sith with no time for the shifting loyalties of hired guns!” Xuvas replied with gusto.

Although the marines didn’t yet know that he was the ship’s owner, they knew their loyalty, and opened fire as soon as the Mandalorians had raised their weapons to a warrior of the Empire. A stun grenade exploded next to him, and Xuvas just barely managed to close his eyes, though even the sound suppressors in his mask couldn’t prevent his ears from ringing. Wincing from the pain, he ignored the laser blasts firing in both directions and smashed the ground in front of him, electrocuting the wounded Mandalorian in a burst of red bolts. The mercenary’s gear short-circuited, cooking him to death inside of his proverbial shell.

All of the other Mandalorians fell to the Imperials save one who attempted to fly away. Xuvas Force-pulled man’s trajectory into a column, slamming him like a rag doll. “Take that one alive,” he ordered the shaken marines. “We can replicate their weapons and armor through him.”

“Yes sir, uh...” mumbled the highest ranking marine uncertainly.

Xuvas deactivated his lightsaber and turned to face the officer. “Darth Xuvas, Sith Warrior of the Sphere of Philosophy, apprentice of Darth Aruk, herald of Moff Kilran, and now owner of the Black Talon.”

Even through their helmets, he could sense their eyes lighting up. “At once, Lord Xuvas!” the officer replied, seemingly uplifted by a second wind after the battle. While the rest of the marines cleaned up, their officer stood at attention. “Are there more boarding parties to deal with, my lord?”

“No, we’ve entered hyperspace. Per my agreement with Moff Kilran, we’re to exit soon to engage in repairs. We then pursue a second Republic transport for a similar extraction mission. We’ll dock at Alderaan for debriefing.”

“And forgive my intrusion sir, but were these Mandalorians...spies? Traitors?”

Smiling sinisterly behind his mask, Xuvas wove his words without even using his power of influence over the man. “Guns-for-hire have no loyalties to betray,” the Sith Warrior replied, his loathing for the Mandalorian culture barely masked in his tone. “I exercised judgment and understood that miscreant’s action as a threat; if the Mandalorian Enclave wishes to register its protests, then they may pursue the formal complaint channels. It has nothing to do with you or your comrades.”

Although he could sense the skepticism in the marine’s demeanor, Xuvas steeled his red gaze through his mask’s goggles. The marine wasn’t entirely convinced of the story, but Xuvas was relieved to see that he knew where his loyalty belonged when he changed the subject.

“Shall I contact the interior maintenance droids?”

“Please do; when they arrive, you and your men are relieved for debriefing with Lieutenant Sylas.” Xuvas began to walk away toward the elevators before stopping halfway. “Good work, marine.”

The marine saluted and murmured ‘he told me good job’ to the others while Xuvas took his leave. Once he reached the elevator, he turned around and waited for the marines to begin a basic sweep of the area.

The atrium was a mess. The tapestries were either burning or burned, display screens had been shattered, the walls were warped from explosions, the waste disposal unit had burst and spilled its contents, the snack bar’s drinks had been sloshed all over the floor, and a number of troopers - his troopers - had lost their lives. The ship looked like a mess.

But it was his ship. It was his mess. He’d gone from a casual exit from Balmorra to appropriating and cleansing what was nearly a small scale capital ship.

“Time to get started,” he chuckled as the elevator door closed.


	7. Purification

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new mayor is in town, and he’s flushing out holdovers of the old order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t own Star Wars.

From the moment Darth Xuvas exited the elevator, he was beset by questioning on all sides.

Stepping out into the lower regions of his newly appropriated ship, he found an ensign hiding behind her data pad as if expecting him to scream at her. “My lord, per naval protocols, I must offer to draft your report on the unpleasantries in the ship’s common area,” she asked nervously while backing up.

He continued walking, making his way back to the brig. In his mind was a mental list of errands he had to run in a short amount of time, and he didn’t know his newly appropriated crew well enough to count on them to understand. Tapping his finger on her pad to authorize the report, he spoke as he strode down the narrow central corridor.

“The mercenaries went rogue and threatened me after I slayed the Republic boarding team. I judged their actions as mutiny and dealt the fitting punishment.”

A random marine in a side corridor turned to salute. “It’s an honor to serve you, my lord!” the Private said despite not having even been informed of the new owner’s name yet.

“Your diligence honors our ship,” he replied in passing.

The ensign nearly fell over a cleanup droid while following him. “Yes, very well, my lord. Could I have your verbal acknowledgement that the report has been completed-“

Sylas’ image appeared on a random hallway projector. “Lord Xuvas, shall I keep the direct combat crew on alert?” the hologram asked.

“No, put them at ease, Lieutenant.”

“My lord.”

“My report is finished,” he told the ensign, who had to hurry to keep up with his longer strides.

“I am grateful, my lord. Is there any other task for me before I return to the records terminal?”

Suddenly, another image appeared on a random screen in the corridor, this time of Brukarra. “My lord, the armory appears to have a minor issue with accepting the Mandalorian gear for reproduction.”

Then an unknown source contacted his helmet’s uplink and broadcast an audio message. “Hello, I am your hospitality droid, Servo 43. Would you like me to eject Revinal Orzik from the captain’s quarters?” the hospitality software asked.

On top of all that, a second ensign, even more flustered and bumbling than the first, practically stumbled in front of the marching juggernaut from a side corridor. “My lord, we’ve reached the secure coordinates transmitted by Admiral Kilran. Should I relay orders to Captain Orzik to stop?” he asked.

“One at a time!” Xuvas growled while grinding to a halt. The second ensign fell over and Brukarra squeaked like a mouse at the sound of his ire.

Stopping in front of his destination, he turns to regard all the dependents he’d just appropriated. “You, communicate to Lieutenant Sylas that repair drones are to be deployed into orbit immediately. You, tell the armory that I’m coming to them in person shortly, and tell my trooper Varan Yash to be there. You, let the Captain keep the Captain’s quarters out of respect and just give me the living space most remote from all others. You, tell the Captain to stop the ship.” He paused for effect. “Well?”

A chorus of confirmations rang out as Brukarra and the software closed their communication channels, the ensigns scrambled away, and a stray marine who’d been passing in the next corridor turned and walked the other way. Waiting to be sure he was finally alone, he breathed deeply and entered the brig. He hadn’t realized the responsibility he was taking on when he’d first pressed Kilran for ownership.

At least the brig contained one project he felt he could count on. As a confirmation that the ship had exited hyperspace beeped in his earpiece, the security gate beeped to allow him into the on-board penitentiary. Two fresh, uninjured marines had replaced the ones he’d flung against the wall earlier, saluting him as their new leader when he walked by and reminding him of how fast word could spread even in a frigate-class vessel sporting nearly a hundred personnel.

Entering the last cell, he found a sight that finally gave him reason to nod approvingly. “Good work, Pjiega,” he told the Rattataki woman as she shut down the tattoo gun.

Pjiega stood to receive him.“Greetings, master,” she replied in a tone which was as close as she could get to cheery.

On the floor was his newest recruit, forced onto her knees by tentacular restraints on her limbs and lekku. Almost every conceivable inch of Yadira Ban was covered in decently drawn Sith tattoos - not the best, but enough to pass in front of most civilians and Jedi. She looked rather morose with her head down and arms stretched straight behind her back, though Xuvas understood that she was in shock over how fast her life had changed. Although she refused to look him in the eye, he could feel her resentment throbbing, fed from every part of her psyche. Her embarrassingly easy capture alone had done half the job of conversion already.

“I’m almost jealous of you, Yadira,” he said while kneeling to get a better look at her. She shook her head at the floor, radiating dark energy like a pulsar, but still wouldn’t look up. “I mean it. You spent much of your life drowning in the falsity of the light side of the Force. To then realize the truth after falsity...to feel the transformation the dark side can bring...it’s not an experience I’ve shared, but those who came before you have described it as the best period of their lives.”

“I hate you-“ she whispered before cutting herself off.

“What was that?” he whispered back. “It’s alright; say what you’re feeling. Tell the truth - I Welcome it!”

Another wave of seething resentment pulsated within her so strongly that he could feel its heat before it was stuffed down. Her neck strained, and she seemed to be fighting her own feelings.

Patting her on the shoulder, he stood up and glanced at a control panel on the wall. “One advantage of Imperial Standards and Practices is that, even in an unfamiliar ship, the tools I need are easy to locate.” She didn’t appear to be listening to him, and thus was taken aback when more robotic arms whirred from above her.

Thinner than the restraints on her limbs, the more delicate grapplers extended from the ceiling and seized her by the neck. Before she’d even started to struggle, a cybernetic harness emerged from the grapplers to hold her mouth closed, her eyelids open, and her head in place. At first she growled furiously, sending a Force wave that caused feedback in his earpiece, but she then repressed herself again and attempted to meditate.

Xuvas activated his helmet’s communications link. “Servo 43, access that interactive holo-course they give to new citizens. The one with the comprehension checks.”

“Greetings, master!” his hospitality software chirped in the room’s intercom. “My readings indicate that your new recruit is of alien background. Are you sure you prefer the instructional video for citizens? Please say ‘yes’ or-“

“Yes, I’m sure. This is a soon-to-be inductee into the Sith Order.”

“Hnnn!” Yadira groaned into the muzzle. The neck brace stretched to prevent her from shaking her head, and she soon gave up as she had back on the Brentaal Star.

Emitted from unseen pores all over the walls of the cell, a panorama of a patriotic museum in Kaas City materialized across Yadira’s field of vision. A diminutive curator with a dated uniform and haircut from at least two decades prior blinked into existence.

“Hello, new citizen! My name is Hera Heraldric, and I’ll be your host for the pre-induction lesson on civilization and culture. In this specific installment, we’ll focus on the history of the Sith Empire, starting from the Sith genocide perpetrated by the Jedi.”

Partially censored images of red-skinned civilians burning to death played out behind the host, who continued to smile politely despite the caracitures of monstrous Jedi and Republic soldiers playing out behind her. Yadira tried to close her eyes, but two more robotic arms emerged from her head harness to moisturize her eyes so much that they watered.

“We’ll move in through how the Empire rebuilt from the ashes of Republican oppression, with special attention to the Republic’s racial hypocrisy, the continued destitution of its alien citizens, and the higher quality of life enjoyed by aliens in Imperial territory regardless of citizenship status.”

The tiny holographic woman’s smile grew even wider. “And don’t worry about boredom; this six-hour version of the course is interactive. After every hour, you’ll face a battery of fifty comprehension questions which you must answer successfully in order to progress.”

“Ick ours?!” Yadira mumbled through the muzzle, obviously referring to the amount of time.

“At this rate, you should be finished just as we reach the Esseles,” Xuvas said while stepping aside for a last word with his retainer. When Yadira strained her head to look at him, he paused. “Yes, I know about the Esseles. And you will have the honor of summarily executing members of the order which misled you for so much of your life. I’m proud of you already!”

“Hnn! Hnnnnn!”

Pjiega knelt in front of their new warrior on Xuvas’ signal and prepared a mild sedative. “You’re lucky; master doesn’t let me take this stuff without medical justification anymore!” the Rattataki said cheerily. Yadira struggled even more when Pjiega injected her with the booster shot, but soon ran out of steam once the chemicals began to take effect, and she slumped in her restraints as Pjiega put a chummy arm around her shoulder. “Hey rube!” Pjiega yelled at one of the marines in the hallway outside, “get me and my new bestie some popcorn!”

The dinky hologram hostess pumped an understated fist. “For the Emperor!” she beamed as Xuvas took his leave.

Outside of the brig, he found himself on-duty once again. His earpiece beeped as he walked back to the elevators, and he had to ignore more salutations from passing troopers. “Accept,” he spoke into his helmet.

“My lord, this is Brukarra. The armory is one floor up. I’ve just received a second complaint from them now.”

He grunted in disapproval at complaints occurring so early. “Tell them to be patient. Also, have the repair droids begun work yet?” he asked as he exited on the next floor. He walked out and found a number of hallways leading to different work spaces.

“Yes, I - turn - yes - go - um...”

“Answer first, then directions.”

“I’m sorry my lord! Y-yes, repairs have begun! Our maintenance staff have projected four hours of work necessary.”

“Good. Where is the armory?”

“I’ll initiate a trail of lights along the edge of the floor in each hallway. And...” Brukarra paused, listening to another channel at her communications center. “My lord, the master at arms for all troops on deck is at the armory. There appears to be...discontent.”

“Thank you for the notice. Shut off the communications links of the armory, the hallway just outside of it, and all personnel inside other than myself and Mr. Yash. Shut off your video feed of the area until I’m finished, too.”

Brukarra paused for a moment before responding. “A-Alright,” she replied nervously as she closed the channel.

Xuvas reached the passage to the armory and stopped, finding Varon Yash fully geared waiting for him. “You heard all of that right?” the Sith asked.

Having served under him long enough to know his tactics, Yash merely nodded and directly addressed their visit. “I’ve also instructed every other crew member to leave the adjacent hallways. It took a bit of browbeating.”

“Good; they need to understand the new order here. Let’s make our entrance.”

Xuvas allowed Mr. Yash to lead the way in to the armory, thus evading notice of the arguing troopers for a second. The moment was long enough for him to spy multiple Imperial marines yelling at a pair of scared looking ensigns hiding behind their data pads.

Not wanting to resort to the Force so early - especially on his own personnel - Xuvas merely loomed behind the angry troopers and waited for them to realize he was there. For a few more seconds they continued to berate the cowed non-combat staff before noticing the Sith juggernaut observing them. All at once, the argument ceased, and a quartet of Imperial troopers turned to face him without saluting.

“I’m Lieutenant Paramus, master-at-arms of the Black Talon,” said the bolder of the group of agitators without any sort of escalation or introduction. “Our trusted team of bounty hunters have been murdered, and apparently not just by Republic spacers. What’s the meaning of this?”

Xuvas knew he had to act swiftly to assert his ownership of the vessel. “First of all, you’re demoted, Corporal Paramus,” he said, shocking all of them into silence. “Second of all, you’re all relieved of duty. You can clear out your bunks and see Lieutenant Sylas about civilian rooms on my ship later; for now, remove your gear and submit it to the armorer. Right here. Right now.”

One of the ensigns began waving his hands, but the troopers didn’t budge. They looked more surprised than certain, of course, but they still didn’t budge. Another one of them spoke up. “Darth Xuvas, what’s happened here in the past few hours is highly suspect. We’re members of this ship’s crew-“

As much as he detested a cross debate, he had to risk lowering himself to that in order to cut off any hope of a challenge to his new authority. “You’re off-duty military personnel unconnected to the mission of the Black Talon. Submit my ship’s gear because you no longer have approval to use it.”

He saw the fingers of the bolder trooper twitch and began calculating how to subdue them with as least collateral damage to the armory contents as possible. All four of them shined with a combination of defiance and self-doubt, waiting for someone else to rise up against him. In the end, it was a meek clerk who pressed them to submit.

Moving clumsily but out of their peripheral vision, one of the two ensigns pulled a blaster pistol from the weapons cache and sloppily aimed it at the defiant troopers. “This is our mission controller! We have to follow his orders!” the waifish young man said.

The other ensign tugged at his jacket. “What are you doing?” he whispered.

“Put that down, dweeb!” one of the troopers yelled while violently grabbing the pistol and bopping the ensign on the nose with it. The skinny clerk dropped like a rock, eyes watering and head spinning.

The offending trooper lost his hand holding the pistol so quickly that he didn’t even have time to scream.

“Death is the penalty for mutiny!” Xuvas said as he brought his lightsaber up under the man’s elbow.

The other troopers drew their sidearms, aiming at the Sith. They didn’t hesitate, showing just how much they resented new management when they opened fire. The blaster pistols felt hot when they hit Xuvas’ armor, much hotter and more painful than the blasts from the Republic commandos had been, and he took solace in the fact that his new crew had decent gear. While he waved his saber at them to maintain the attention of the rebel troops, he watched the second ensign run for a panel at the back wall. If the armory was designed like those on most standard naval vessels, then the panel could very well contain a panic button.

“Mr. Yash!”

“Yes, master Xuvas!”

In a flash, his own trooper chased down the second ensign and dispatched the knave before anyone else aboard could be alerted. The injured trooper tried to follow and was cut in half for the effort, leaving the rest of them to fall to his blade while Yash secured the area.

“Clear!” Yash announced.

Xuvas felt as if he’d been slapped hard, which was the most he’d been hurt in combat that day. Nodding to himself approvingly, he wondered what he could do with ten times as many of those under his command. Brushing ashes off of his armor, he approached the dazed ensign who’d tried to defend him and helped the skinny clerk to stand.

“You did good, son,” he told the ensign while handing back the youth’s hat.

“Thank you, my lord,” he sniffled while activating a mild kolto spray to his bloody nose. “We must respect the hierarchy.”

“Such an attitude will take you far. For example, today, you’ve earned the rank of armorer.”

The ensign dropped his kolto applier and winced awkwardly as if unsure of how to express himself. “Oh, thank you, my lord!”

“You can thank the Empire with continued diligence. To start, have the cleanup droids dispose of these corpses alongside those of the Republic and Mandalorian offenders. Get the repair droids on bringing their gear back to working condition, and get the fabrication droids replicating the Mandalorian gear for our own usage. Keep all communications with non-sentients only until our new master-at-arms approves of opening the channels again.”

The former ensign looked over to Yash, who seemed quite pleased with the new position. “Yes, okay, we’ll, right away, Lord Xuvas! Shall I...what shall I...or, what could I do for you next?” the newfound armorer asked.

Xuvas nodded toward Yash. “You can follow any orders from Lieutenant Sylas or our master-at-arms here. I’ll have a service droid bring my own gear to you soon for inspection and any repairs.

“Until then, I’ll be in my quarters. Leave me there and inform all other personnel as such...we have a battle for which to prepare.”


	8. Intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In between the Brentaal Star and the Essenes, there’s a brief calm before the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t own Star Wars.

Coming off on an hours-long power nap, Xuvas wondered why his apartment back on Dromund Kaas wasn’t as comfortable as the Black Talon’s passenger rooms. Even if he continued to retrofit the transport ship with more combat-oriented parts, he’d made sure to keep the living quarters as wastefully luxurious as they were. By the time he exited his room, he felt ready to help conquer a planet all over again.

And at the moment the door closed behind him, some sort of alarm must have triggered signaling that he wasn’t preoccupied anymore because the calls flooded his earpiece right away.

“Lord Xuvas, this is Captain Orzik. All repairs were completed successfully, and we covered most of the hyperspace journey while you were asleep.”

“Excellent,” the juggernaut spoke into his helmet as he walked toward th upper reaches of his ship. “And what about-“

“End of prerecorded message. We await your arrival at the bridge.” *beep*

Snorting his momentary displeasure, he began to review battle plans in his head as he resolved to compliment his Captain late on. A live call rang with the title of his new armorer flashing on his helmet’s interface.

“Speak.”

“Lord Xuvas, I had your inspected gear sent to your room for you.”

“Yes, it...” He stifled a sigh to avoid scaring the young man. “I’m wearing it, and you’re calling me on it. Finish your status report.”

“My lord, we repaired the damaged gear and had the cleanup droids...dispose of the bodies. Our stock of munitions and gear has been replenished.”

“And the gear we appropriated from those mercenaries?” Xuvas asked while entering the upper deck.

“The designs have been replicated, but I was unable to initiate mass production because I’m not sure how much new weaponry we need.”

“Don’t worry about it. Where is the merc we captured alive? Was he cooperative?”

“Um...while he was alive, my lord,” the armorer replied nervously. “Your bodyguard...servant...debt collector?”

“That’s Pjiega.”

“Right, of course. She claimed he tried to escape from the brig, so she...handled it.”

For a moment, Xuvas wondered what sort of scenario could have given the Mandalorian a chance to escape. The loss was insignificant, though, and he focused on finishing all of his errands before the start of his assault.

“Good work. Maintain your post until further instructions are given.”

“Yes my lord.”

The Sith switched to another channel once he reached the elevator. “Pjiega, how’s our newest addition faring?”

Her voice crackled before becoming clearer. “She’s doing great, master; she answered every question correctly. She’s smart and stuff.”

“Has she accepted her new place in the galaxy?”

“Yeah, she’s woke now. Plus, I’m a great hostess, so she feels at home. She had a nervous breakdown...or...two, maybe. But that was only during the parts about how poor us non-humans are on Republic worlds.”

“Good. Let it sink in that she’s been lied to. Listen, very important: she needs new gear. Her old gear was recycled, so I need you to tell those guards with you to scan her for measurements and forward them to the armory.”

“Scan and forward. I got it, master.”

“Good. Put some clothes on her, help her don her armor, but keep any weapons for her until I say otherwise. Once she’s geared up, find Mr. Yash. He’ll lead the charge for our boarding party, and that’s happening soon.”

“Yes, master.”

Xuvas exited the elevator onto the bridge and stopped to call the armory again. “Yes, my lord?” the new armorer asked.

“We have a new recruit of alien background. The brig is going to send you measurements in just a moment; we need her armor manufactured as soon as possible. Don’t forget to design flexible armor for her lekku.”

“For her...what, my lord?”

“Those slappy tentacle things on the back of her head.”

“Of course, what an interesting new assignment. I’ll start immediately.”

“Please do, and expedite this prior to all other tasks. Our arrival is nigh.”

No sooner had he walked into the bridge than had he found his ship’s captain waiting for him. “Darth Xuvas...I’m glad to say all your preparations have been completed,” Orzik said with a shine to his smile but a dullness to his eyes. The man hasn’t accepted the new management as fully as Sylas had, and Xuvas could tell that the change took a lot out of his ego.

Being as delicate as possible, Xuvas walked next to Orzik slowly and used their brief respite from prying ears to build rapport. “Had my ship been under a different officer, I likely would’ve remained awake to personally oversee all preparations. However, your dossier and reputation are such that I never doubted timely project completion.”

More relieved than flattered, a bit of the stress disappeared from Orzik’s aura. “Many thanks to you, my lord. Now, we’re expecting to reach the location of the Esseles in less than half an hour. Lieutenant Sylas has undertaken troop inspections, and the hangar staff have reported that all flight personnel are ready.”

“By all accounts, we should be ready for a swift extraction mission. Is the Lieutenant aware of our target?”

“Yes, and she’s made our troops aware of the Republic ambassador’s identity. Your retainer even prepared a cell for the target next to that of the traitorous general.”

Coming to a halt at the front of the bridge, Xuvas folded his arms behind his back and took a deep, proud breath. “Do you wish to address the troops, my lord?” Orzik asked him.

Xuvas just focused on the white streaks created by the stars as they bounced through hyperspace. “No...not now,” he replied, keeping his desire to avoid over-imposing on his personnel a secret. “This is a time for silence and reflection.”

Orzik remained standing next to him, staring outside the windows as well. “Of course, my lord.”

The rest of the staff in the bridge noticed them but didn’t entirely share the sense of calm. Various ensigns and officers chattered in hushed voices, and those working on the tactical holoboards obsessively reviewed every possible contingency. He didn’t mind, though; leaving his new underlings to work out the details while he played the part of the distant and weird boss was one of his ways of building leadership through mystique.

Tension mounted as the minutes ticked by and stars whizzed across the viewing window in the form of white streaks. The bridge staff carried themselves with an increased sense of urgency despite there being little to do, and nervous habits such as foot tapping began and ended like a subconscious wave among a few of them. Xuvas reveled in that tension, and he felt his heart pump excitedly in anticipation of the assault to come.

“Arrival is imminent,” Orzik said quietly as the two of them watched.

“We can exit hyperspace when you deem it safe, Captain,” Xuvas replied.

“Of course, my lord.”

Orzik strode forward and dictated a few instructions to the pilot, then fielded a call from the hangar staff. On his own, Xuvas was able to proudly stand at the helm of his own capital ship for the first time. He’d dreamed of having a frigate-class ship to call his own one day, though he’d never spoken of the matter to a soul. The prospect seemed too fantastical, too impossible for a lord his age, yet there he was, surrounded by his crew all running the ship like clockwork. This was far better than his now destroyed Fury interceptor, wherein he had to personally manage the voyage and crew. The Black Talon truly made him feel like a Darth.

His almost stupid grin was cut off the moment they exited hyperspace.

Exiting at the assigned location, the stars around them slowed down from glowing streaks into their normal stationary positions, decorating space around the grey metal of ships. Their target, the Esseles, floated only fifty or so kilometers away, almost dangerously close. What caught his eye, however, and what made Brukarra squeak again, were all the other ship’s surrounding it.

Commotion broke out among the bridge crew as Orzik lost his cool trying to quiet them down. A number of the technicians tried to go about their jobs, but the distraction of so many ships proved to be too great. Xuvas walked toward the main viewing windows of the ship to get a better look.

“The Esseles, two Thranta corvettes, four Defender corvettes, one unidentifiable ship which resembles an Hammerhead frigate,” Brukarra read off as she counted.

With Orzik struggling to keep the transport ship’s crew under control, Xuvas stood next to the communications officer to survey the situation. The ship of unknown pilotage seemed too familiar.

“That’s Satele Shan’s ship,” he murmured acrimoniously. “It’s a trap!”

The first round of laser cannon blasts started flying before the alarms could even sound.


	9. Running the Gauntlet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s a trap!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t own Star Wars.

Pandemonium ensued as the first round of lasers struck the Black Talon’s energy shields, rocking the whole ship and triggering the unnecessarily loud alarm. Darth Xuvas realized that he hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d praised Orzik’s ability to manage the ship when he saw the captain in action.

“Shields, give me a reading! Gunnery, prep the lasers! Communications, status reports for damage control! Signals, scan for any attempted hacking!” Orzik shouted at the respective crew members while pacing around the battle stations.

His natural inclination to handle every crisis by himself held at bay, Xuvas was able to remain silent and focus on the big picture. The bridge’s logical division of labor had never been an option for him with his smaller staff on his previous ship, and he felt reassured despite the shock ambush.

“Incoming transmission from Satele Shan!” Brukarra stuttered while furiously clicking on holo-buttons projected all around her.

“Denied,” Xuvas said.

“My lord, she’s the commander of the enemy armada!”

“Denied, Officer. Contact Kilran.”

“R-right away, my lord!”

As if expecting them, Kilran’s image appeared in the holoterminal before Brukarra could be even announce it. His usual angry smile had a certain smugness to it, and Xuvas realized how little he could trust the man who’d started the whole chain of events.

“Greetings, Darth Xuvas. I trust that you’ve arrived.” Kilran maintained his self-gratified smile even as laser fire rocked the ship, pretending not to notice.

“Admiral, we don’t have much time, as you can see. What happened while we were in hyperspace?”

The Moff was loving it, practically gloating over the rude awakening the pureblood was receiving. “Several significant developments took place while you were in communicando. Are you sure this is the right time for a conversation, by the way?” The eight enemy ships actually began to scramble, providing even sharper contrast to Kilran’s taunting calmness.

“This isn’t a game, Admiral; the lives of Imperial citizens are at stake. What took place while we were in transit? What don’t I know?”

Amid first round of fire from the Black Talon’s own laser cannons, Kilran proudly retold the tale. “It seems that Shan was exceptionally incensed by your execution of Republic officers on live holocast. The clip apparently went viral on Hutt and Imperial social media!” Kilran said with lit up eyes. “She scoured the galaxy for where you’d flown off to with the general. Unfortunately, a team of our covert agents aboard the Esseles had their plan compromised, and their datapads contained discreet communications informing them of your plan. Dreadful business, really - when you’re finished mopping up the Republic scum, do execute those agents for their failure, would you?”

“Photon torpedoes incoming! Engage evasive maneuvers!” Orzik urged the frantic systems administrator

Realizing that the situation was his penance for having coveted the ship, Xuvas grit his teeth but forced himself to focus on the mission. “Surely there are other members of the fleet who’ve been alerted, in that case,” he said with a forced politeness.

“Don’t worry, several Mandalorian contingents have been contacted,” Kilran replied with the hint of mocking reassurance in his voice. “They’ve been promised a portion of the spoils of any credit coffers they can help recover.”

No, Xuvas thought to himself, unable to accept their assistance even when facing insurmountable odds. “If there are any auxiliary units of the 5th Fleet available, this would be an opportune time to send them.”

The subtle request caused Kilran’s eyes to light up again as if he’d won some sort of moral conflict. “By all means, the 5th Fleet is happy to assist the Sith Sphere of Philosophy. I’ll ensure that Darth Aruk is aware of our help, though the closest squadron won’t arrive for another half hour or so. But that won’t be any problem for a warrior of your caliber, yes?”

Kilran was not only testing the Sith juggernaut’s normally indomitable patience, but also his survivability, all to make some sort of a point. The behavior seemed unbecoming, though Xuvas didn’t doubt that his being a pawn could serve a greater strategic purpose in the moff’s eyes. Regardless, he wasn’t in a position to hurl accusations or perform an investigation, and he had to show deference to the only person who could reliably provide assistance, albeit belated assistance.

“Please provide any assistance possible, Admiral. The fleet of the Jedi Grand Master isn’t to be trifled with.”

That same insincere, slightly pissed off smile spread across the moff’s face again. “Believe me, I know. Though pressure is a great motivator, isn’t it?” The insincere smile metamorphosized into a plain old sneer again. “Kilran out.”

Not wasting any time, Xuvas ignored the photon torpedo which almost struck the viewing window of the bridge and turned to his apoplectic communications officer. “Brukarra, scan my contacts. One of my private crew members who died during the attack on the Brentaal Star was a Chiss. Contact her noble house through her contacts and send a distress signal to the nearest representatives of the Chiss Ascendancy.”

“Right-o, my lord,” she replied in a voice which was nervous but also persevering.

“Then contact those Mandalorians and convince them that we can hold off the Republic ships for them while they launch a back attack,” he said, concealing his plans to trick the mercenaries into being cannon fodder instead.

“Initiating now.”

Then Xuvas accessed his helmet’s comm link. “Lieutenant Sylas?” he spoke into is helmet.

Her voice came through with the background sound of the annoying alarm. “Yes, lord Xuvas?” Sylas asked.

“Inspect the marines and guard droids for readiness, then coordinate with the wing commander to have shuttles ready for maximum capacity of troops. Starfighters must hold back until I say so.”

“Understood, my lord.”

“And get my personal pilots on the most durable shuttle we have. Both of them. Strong arm them if they resist.”

“Also understood.”

Accessing the bridge’s tactical display terminal on his own, Xuvas watched the hologram of all starships within a twenty kilometer radius, his included. Perhaps in response to the ordered defensive maneuvers, Shan’s armada was giving chase. “So much for their two-faced preaching about peace,” he said with an acidic tone as he watched the Republic starships scramble to pursue the Black Talon.

Having calmed down the crew, a frazzled Orzik rejoined the Sith near the viewing screen. “My lord, once we put enough distance between us and them, we can reenter hyper-“

“Negative,” Xuvas said firmly. “We initiated this conflict; we will not grant the Republic the comfort of believing they can intimidate us.”

“My lord, we’re a transport ship! And outnumbered!”

Turning to face both the captain and the crew behind him, the ship’s new owner spoke loudly and clearly for all to hear. “Yes, this is a Gage transport ship, designed for durability to ensure the safety of its cargo. Our comparative advantage is our ability to endure. We must lure them into our kind of fight - a fight where we win based on how many punches we can take, not how many punches we can give.

“We’re too slow to outmaneuver them, and we lack the firepower to blast them away. We close the gap between them and us - now.”

“My lord, we...” Orzik sighed wearily and wiped his forehead despite the chilly temperature maintained in all Imperial vessels. “Change course to challenge the enemy,” he nervously instructed the crew.

“Be cautious; I know you can do this, Captain. Maintain the course and avoid their torpedoes as much as possible. I want our ship right up against theirs, right in the middle, ready to ram Shan’s Hammerhead if she’s not careful.”

“But my lord, our hull...wait...our, hull...it’s the only hull in our fleet built to withstand full planetary impact!”

“Precisely; a Gage class transport’s armor is top of the line. And we won’t even need to actually ram Shan’s ship; she’ll avoid a collision at all costs because our slow, bulky frigate will split her oblong, projectiles-focused one in half. Once we’re in range of the Esseles, pull it in with the tractor beam.”

“The tractor beam was removed back when we began carrying civilians, my lord.”

“Then you stick on top of the Esseles like glue, Captain! Don’t let them move even half a kilometer away because they know full well why we’re here, and they won’t jeapoardize the ambasador’s life.”

Orzik gave the Sith a very worried yet sincere look. “Our hull is stronger than theirs, but we’re going to suffer unspeakable damage until we reach their position no matter what we do,” the Captain lamented as the first missile slammed against the hull and rocked them where they stood. “Perhaps defensive maneuvers by our on-board squadron of starfighters can mitigate that.”

“Negative; a complete squadron is our actual strategy, part of our advantage. Once we close the gap...” Xuvas paused for a few seconds as a photon torpedo struck near the bridge and almost knocked them off course. “Once we release our squadron right in the middle of them, all hell will break loose. Our shuttles can commandeer the entire hangar bay of the Esseles.”

The captain steeled his jaw to portray a straight face, but Xuvas could sense his lack of faith through the Force. “As you...as you wish, my lord,” Orzik replied in a somber tone. He spoke like a man who wanted so much to believe, and perhaps held on to a kennel of hope in his heart, but couldn’t bring himself to reject his rational sense of self-preservation. With feet full of lead, he walked back to the battle stations. “You heard Lord Xuvas; maintain course!”

Through the viewing window, Xuvas watched as the Republic armada fanned out as if to surround them. His concentration was broken when they were close enough for the first missile barrage from the Thrantas to batter the Black Talon’s nose, though he didn’t know whether that breaking was due to the vertigo caused by the ship’s simulated gravity clashing with the missile impact against the ship, or by the nasally cry of the bridge’s situational awareness ensign.

“The Hammerhead is preparing to launch three boarding pods!” the twerpy cadet cried out.

Xuvas accessed his earpiece, but allowed the rest of the crew to hear him for reassurance. “Lieutenant Sylas, assign the most experienced fireteam from the hangar to intercept those boarding teams. Then contact the armory and have the new attendant rally all combat droids for meeting the enemy. I don’t want a single one of those machines in reserve - put the armorer on red alert.”

“Right away, Lord Xuvas,” Sylas replied.

“Whatever you do, don’t actually kill the boarding party.”

“Yes, of...” Sylas’ voice trailed off as she ostensibly did a double take. “Don’t...don’t kill them, my lord?”

“You heard me. Pin them down with suppression fire, but leave them alive for as long as possible. Make sure that the fire team understands this well and keeps the combat droids under control.”

Even Sylas sent pangs of disbelief through the Force without realizing it, though hers manifested more in the sense of suspense rather than skepticism. “All...right, my lord. I’ll ensure that they understand,” she replied warily.

“My lord, the enemy starfighters are closing the gap with us fast. Permission to engage?” Orzik asked, masking his nervousness from all save the Sith. The man had been out of active combat for too long.

“Negative, Captain. The Black Talon can’t catch starfighters, but she can endure the pinpricks of their armament. We need to handle those Defender class corvettes. Permission granted for the gunnery department to engage all Defender corvettes only.”

“The smaller corvettes?” Orzik asked in confusion. “But they...” He paused as if having an epiphany. “They’re expensive, prestigious anti-starfighter specialists...”

“...which can’t take on a capital ship,” Xuvas said at the same time that the Thranta corvettes started to flank the Black Talon, finishing the captain’s sentence for him. “Punish them for their approach and shock the rest of their armada.”

“Yes, my lord. Gunnery Department, to your stations! Focus all fire on the four Defender class corvettes!”

A voice crackled in on the radio, likely due to an attempted hacking which the technicians were furiously fighting off with all their furious typing. “Yes, Captain!”

They began to pass right in between the two Thranta class corvettes, flanked on either side as the Hammerhead continued its laser fire. The ship’s second communications officer, Hetter, began to visibly fidget at the sign of the two red and white corvettes on either side of them like a vise. His lack of resolve started to spread like a disease, and Xuvas watched as one ensign after another started to shudder and whisper fearfully about the two spacebound executioners they were about to pass in between.

“Lord Xuvas, we’re about to enter their striking range on either side! We’re offering ourselves as a target-“

“Ensign Hetter, that’s a demerit for improprietous speech!” Orzik barked, both from anger as well as panic.

Xuvas understood Hetter’s anxiety, but he couldn’t undermine his captain, and so addressed Orzik rhetorically. “Notice that the Thrantas aren’t firing,” he said loudly, pretending to be chatting with the captain even though it was the crew who hung on his every word. “Shan’s armada made the conceited mistake of launching their boarding crew first, and now the Thranta corvettes can’t open fire lest they be accused of killing their own commandos. They were only trying to call our bluff with the vise formation; they never intended to fire because they didn’t expect us to fly right between them.”

Brukarra and Hetter both breathed a little easier, and Orzik didn’t realize the Sith’s intent. “Excellent battlefield judgement, my lord,” the still nervous captain replied.

“Sylas, is that fireteam coordinating with the droids?” Xuvas asked into his earpiece over the sound of laser fire from the Hammerhead (though, noticeably, no missiles or torpedoes).

“Yes, my lord, and the droids have engaged. The Republic marines are pinned down and haven’t progressed from their points of entry.”

“Excellent. As you were, Lieutenant. Captain, I don’t have a visual on the Defender Corvettes.”

“Situational awareness, give us a visual from gunnery!” Orzik urged the twerpy ensign.

“Yes, Captain!”

A hologram of their ship popped up alongside the Thranta and Defender corvettes all around them. The two Thranta ships were already behind them, backing away to create distance. The four Defender ships were scattered despite their bulk, flying erratically and without coordination.

“Can we get a status report for those, Captain?” Xuvas asked.

“Yes. Damage control unit?” Orzik said while looking over the shoulder of another seated cadet. “Oh, my lord, those Defenders are in poor shape! Our gunnery department worked fast!”

“Because the Defenders expected us to panic and open fire on the Thrantas instead. They took far too much damage when they flew stupidly close to us, and now they’re breaking formation to save themselves. Battlefield tactics trump scare tactics, Captain.” Xuvas walked in between the two communication stations at the front of the bridge, silencing the crew as he calmly watched their target. “We’re close to them, very close. The Esseles is retreating only now, and it’s already too late; they’re as slow as we are, and lack the velocity we’ve reached. They can’t escape, and they can’t enter hyperspace without stopping completely, which they won’t do. We’re guaranteed to reach their position.”

“The two Thranta corvettes are giving pursuit, my lord, and the Hammerhead is holding its ground,” Orzik said in astonishment, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead with his handkerchief. “Our shields have been depleted by fifty percent, there are three separate gas fires in the superstructure, our hull has been horribly damaged...but we’re less than ten kilometers away from the Esseles. Oh my...we’re almost there! We’ve done it!”

“Woot!” the situational awareness officer cheered, trying to start a round of applause and then awkwardly sitting back down when everyone stared at him. “Sorry.”

His own tension decreasing and settling into eagerness, Xuvas tried to stave off premature pride. “They thought they could scare us off, then bully us, then whittle us down using the Esseles as bait. They likely expected us to release our starfighters to meet theirs, which would have made ours easy targets for the Defenders. Now, the Defenders are battered and scattered, the Thrantas can’t safely release their payloads on us this close to the Esseles, the enemy starfighters will be ambushed by our own, and our bombers will be close enough to dismantle the Thrantas as well as the Hammerhead. They expected none of this, and Shan doesn’t seem to have accounted for the possibility, thinking we’d cower away. Their arrogance will be their downfall.”

He walked down from the front platform, pausing briefly by Orzik. “You honor us all with your management, Captain. Stay the course, pin down the Esseles, and focus laser fire on the Defenders - I’m going in myself. If my vital signs cease, escape at all costs and reenter hyperspace.”

This time, the weariness in Orzik’s eyes betrayed only a sense of bewildered accomplishment. “Yes, my lord. People, maintain our course! We’re bringing this armada down!” he announced as Xuvas walked to the elevators.

“Now time for the hard part,” Darth Xuvas sighed to himself on the way down.


	10. Blackout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Esseles was expecting their arrival, and its crew don’t intend to go down easily...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t own Star Wars.

More laser fire rocked his starship’s shields as Dart Xuvas descended to the hangar bay of the Black Talon, reminding him of how little time he had left. Although there were no more missiles or other impact weapons being fired, he didn’t want to risk any more damage than he had to. His anxiety boiled up inside of him on the elevator, and he focused hard to channel that energy into emotional power through the Force. By the time the elevator doors opened, he felt as if he were ready to Force scream at the first hostile target he saw.

What he actually saw upon exiting was the sight of amassed marines and pilots, granting him pause as he realized that he was finally in command of a sizeable company of troops. As much as he’d desired such a position, the sudden transition was daunting. Playing the mysterious, distant leader who spoke infrequently was a great cover for the fact that he was too overwhelmed, and too focused on their mission, to know what to say to the amassed troops in perfect formation.

His ship’s wing commander, a mature woman whose name he’d never asked for, received him as he exited the elevator. “Lord Xuvas, all staff are on standby,” she said as soon as he stepped out, granting him no time to reflect on the position he now held.

Knowing where to find the flight control and operations center per Imperial standards, Xuvas began to walk toward a cramped control room in the hanger, wing commander in tow. “I need the full tally of starfighters,” he said as they walked inside.

The commander activated a broad holoterminal shaped like an oversized dejarik board, projecting images of the Republic armada around them. “Two bombers, six scouts, four strikers, and two gunships,” she replied while bringing up holoimages of each one. “We only have two working assault shuttles now.”

Xuvas frowned behind his mask. “Those scouts are our forlorn hope; give them the fastest pep talk you can and get them out there to cause some havoc. We need to distract the enemy starfighters poking at us.”

“Right away, my lord.”

He turned toward the door back into the hangar and opened it, signaling for her to leave but hanging by the door. “Send the strikers next to really give those hostiles hell. Our shuttles will then exit with the bombers, who *must* focus fire on the Thrantas and Hammerhead. Let the gunships go last to pick off the starfighters once the strikers and scouts have preoccupied them.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Leaning outside the door, Xuvas watched her leave and then waved down Sylas, who’d finished inspecting the troops. Her uniform was spotless, her demeanor was professional and unperturbed, but he could even sense a measure of anxiety radiating from her despite being probably the most level headed among the crew he’d earned. She entered the control room as he split the holographic board in half with a finger swipe and pulled up still images of the troops like pieces on a board.

He didn’t waste time, and she didn’t seem to expect any niceties. “I’ve been told that we have two assault shuttles. How many people can we fit in the seating area, and how many can we fit in the cockpit?”

“Two seated and two standing in the cockpit, that’s four,” she answered without hesitation. “Twenty seated and ten standing in the back, that’s thirty, plus four, so thirty four. Times two, that’s sixty eight. We actually don’t have that many members of combat personnel left after the fight with the boarding party from the Brentaal Star. We only have fifty three.”

“Distribute weight as you see fit. Take my two personal pilots and assign them the shuttle I’ll ride. Put Pjiega, Yadira, and Mr. Yash in the other shuttle. If my vital signs cease, do your best to get the three of them out alive. Pjiega has DNA scan access to my living will, but she doesn’t know it. Any part of her can grant access to my next of kin in the event of my death, even if she’s also dead.”

“Understood. If it does come to that, then it’s been an honor to know you, even if briefly,” Sylas said with a bow.

“You honor the Empire with your service,” he said, and then nodded so she’d take her leave.

He let the door close once she left, pretending to make last minute arrangements with the holograms so he could be left alone. Behind his mask, his eyes were concealed from his troops, and he was able to watch them enter the shuttles through the control room window. Despite his combat experience, he jittered. If the clip of him ordering the execution of Republic military officials really had gone viral, than he was no longer fighting simply to keep his new starship; he and Satele Shan were fighting to make a point to the wider galaxy. He hoped her underestimation of him would translate into continued hubris.

When the scouts had taken flight and the strikers began to follow, he exited the control room. Everyone in the hangar was in such a rush to prepare for the skirmish that he was able to walk to his shuttle undisturbed. He even let his cape flow behind him for dramatic effect - every move a Sith made had to be calculated, every step had to be taken with the goal of inspiring the troops. The Imperial marines within the vessel rose to salute him as he entered, though he said nothing, only glancing at the highest ranking officer to get them seated again.

Inside the cockpit, his two personal pilots were uncomfortably seated at the controls, shaking and morose as they prepared to fly back into a war zone. A single combat engineer stood next to them, upright and stalwart to the point that Xuvas felt a measure of embarrassment for how much the Black Talon’s staff outshined those he’d brought with him.

“Hail...my lord...” Trevjan said in a subdued voice while setting a series of autopilot reactions to possible contingencies.

Orcina only looked marginally better. “The hatch is sealed, Lord Xuvas,” she said in a wavering voice.

“All strikers have departed,” the wing commander spoke into the cockpit’s intercom system.

“Activate the hangar’s open channel,” Xuvas ordered.

“Yes, my lord,” Trevjan replied as if he were speaking his last words.

“Commence disembarkment of all bombers and shuttles,” he ordered.

Thrusters rumbled as the shuttle levitated, moving the shuttle out into open space. As if to signal what was to come, a flaming Republic starfighter screeched right in front of the hangar door, causing both of his pilots to jump in their seats.

“Onward!” he ordered them, trying to stamp out any hesitation early. “We’ll fill this pocket of space with more of their wreckage yet!”

Orcina’s hands visibly shook at the controls. “One, two three...one, two, three,” she whispered to herself.

The scale of the battle was much more apparent in the little shuttle than it had been in his frigate. The scouts and strikers of both sides cut into each other like to rival hives of bees, swooping dangerously close as they fought with the intensity of a battle more significant than that of a diplomat’s extraction. Much to Xuvas’ joy, he noticed more of the Republic starfighters exploding.

Sylas beeped in to his helmet’s secure channel. “The Republic starfighters have been taken by surprise, my lord. It appears that holding our own starfighters back tricked them into thinking ours were out of commission.”

“Excellent. And the Defender class corvettes?”

He couldn’t hear the first part of her answer due to interference from an explosion on the Black Talon, and he prayed it wasn’t too serious. “But we’re staying on them,” she said in the second part of her answer.

Before he could ask again, the shuttle window was lit up by a laser beam streaking too close for comfort, cutting off their line of vision to the Esseles. His heart skipped a beat when the laser dissipated to reveal a chunk of a Defender corvette’s hull flying toward them.

“Aaaaaaiiiieeee!” Orcina screamed, flailing her arms around like an inflatable tube person.

Xuvas grabbed her side of the controls to steer around half of a broken Republic scout ship, fighting back embarrassment at his longtime pilot’s reaction. With shaking hands, she took the controls back, breathing heavily as they rapidly approached the hangar of the Esseles. She shrieked one more time when a turbo laser struck their shuttle, destroying the remainder of their shields.

“You’re doing fine, both of you,” Xuvas told both pilots.

“Sir, the hangar is entirely dark; it surely must be an artificial cloak,” Trevjan said nervously.

Sure enough, the hangar was devoid of light behind the magnetic barrier. Orcina shuddered, and Xuvas intervened before she could say something demoralizing.

“Their mind tricks will fall before our superior organization and technology. Use the shuttle’s auto sensors to land without collision with any concealed ships.”

“Y-yes, my lord,” Trevjan replied. The nervous human activated an automatic landing system, but he shook like Orcina the whole time as they passed into the darkness.

Both shuttles landed, though they lacked visual contact. There was silence in the hangar, and Xuvas could feel another Force-sensitive manipulating the area.

“I see...I see vital signs for a handful of hostiles, my lord,” Orcina sniffled whole shaking uncontrollably. “Only five.”

The combat engineer stood at attention. “Permission to disembark, my lord?” the trooper asked.

“No...no,” Xuvas replied warily. “I feel a presence...order all personnel to remain on board until I give the signal. I need to see this myself.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Trevjan began to chew on his nails, and Orcina looked up at the Sith with big, childlike eyes. He ignored them both as he exited the shuttle, not wanting to feed into their anxiety.

Outside, his only source of orientation was the light of the magnetic shield of the hangar and the stars beyond. Even the light of his shuttles’ cockpits was masked, leaving the Sith to walk in the dark. His reinforced boots didn’t even echo on the floor, leaving his only way to sense his surroundings through the Force.

“I feel you,” he said to an unseen presence mere paces away from him. “Is the Jedi Order afraid to face us openly?”

Materializing as if emerging from fog, a single Miraluka appeared in front of him. Haughty and self-assured, the eyeless creature ignited an offensively blue lightsaber, standing with an arched back and thrusted pelvis as if posing for a pretentiously hip clothing ad. The Jedi’s armor even left the eyeless man’s starved-looking abs exposed, making more of a fashion statement than a threatening display.

“It is you who should be afraid, Sith,” the Miraluka said while making his voice deeper than it actually was.

Out of the darkness, the first Republic trooper materialized, much in the same fashion as the Jedi who’s emerged from the darkness. The trooper’s blaster rifle was at ease, as if attempting to win by a show of force.

“That’s it?” Xuvas asked in sincere confusion. “You can do better than that.”

The second trooper emerged from the darkness, striking a similar posture against what was likely the back wall of the hangar. The Miraluka’s pretentious smirk remained unchanged when the third trooper emerged, and then the fourth.

And then the fifth.

And then the sixth.

And then the twentieth.

And then the forty-seventh.

And then the eighty sixth.

And then the hundredth.

“Yes, Sith. I can do better than that.”


	11. Dead or Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It turns out that more than one foe was laying in wait...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t on Star Wars.
> 
> WARNING: character death in this chapter.

A hundred Republic troopers stood to witness the epic staredown between the pureblood and the Miraluka, the latter’s lack of eyes notwithstanding. Enough blasters to take down an all-terrain walker were held at the ready, an obvious threat to the lone Sith facing their Jedi leader. The odds were obscenely stacked in favor of the defending side.

Yet Xuvas couldn’t shake the sense that the situation was amiss.

The self-assured smirk of the Miraluka didn’t dissipate, however. “I’ll allow you a single opportunity to walk away, and believe me, there’s no scenario in which you survive other than you getting right back into your shuttle,” he said threateningly, though the intimidation factor lessened given how the young man tried to make his voice deeper than it actually was.

Quietly, the voice of Mr. Yash crackled in on his earpiece. “Permission to engage, my lord?” his embedded trooper asked.

“Negative...hold back,” he whispered back into his helmet.

Gears turned in Xuvas’ head as he assessed the situation. The mass of hostiles didn’t seem right at all, and even his mental calculations of how long his armor could hold out felt odd. His heart pounded in his chest, but he felt a disturbance in the Force which shouldn’t have been there.

“No,” Xuvas said to the Jedi while very openly reaching for his lightsaber. Even when the enemy troopers reached for their rifles, he didn’t cease his ostentatious grab for his weapon. “I don’t think I’ll be leaving anytime soon.”

Visibly irritated, the Miraluka took up a battle stance. “My legion can end you at any time, Sith,” the Jedi said menacingly, though the quick rise in his annoyance gave lie to his claim.

“No...no, I don’t think that they can.”

Meeting the Jedi’s battle stance, the Sith lit up the darkness with his red blade, causing all hundred of the troopers to take aim at him. The staredown continued, punctuated by the electric hum of the lightsabers until the Miraluka began to shout.

“Hold your fire - the Sith is mine!”

“Yes sir!” all hundred troopers replied in perfect unison, filling the hangar with their voices and Xuvas’ mind with even more suspicion.

Cautious and calculating, Xuvas leapt forward, maintaining a defensive stance even when he closed the gap between them. The Jedi struck, swinging directly for the Sith’s neck and following up with more furious strikes. Electricity crackled as Xuvas held his ground, allowing the Miraluka to circle him while swinging.

Swinging wildly like a madman, the Miraluka exuded frustration rather than anger. The Jedi was clearly attempting to overwhelm Xuvas, allowing him no time to mount any offense and truly trying to finish the duel as quickly as possible. Maintaining the best form he could, Xuvas merely rotated in his spot and angled his elbows to hold a protective line. Every strike of the Miraluka was parried, every move anticipated, every attempt blocked as the eyeless light-side knight spitefully whined through his nose. The two of them crossed blades and stared each other down again, closely enough such that Xuvas could see the sweat clinging to the Jedi’s pretty boy platinum hair.

“You signed your own death warran-“

Taking another calculated risk, Xuvas cut the lithe Jedi knight’s sentence short by shoulder-checking the tragically hip young man hard. The pureblood’s broad shoulders practically pushed through the Miraluka’s teen pop star physique, knocking the Jedi to one knee and spinning him until he was facing the wrong way. Knowing that limited time remained before the Republic armada regrouped, Xuvas acted swiftly, stabbing his lightsaber into the base of the Miraluka’s skull.

“And that’s why helmets are important,” the Sith said as the Jedi’s corpse fell to the ground.

For a split stupid second, Xuvas took his eyes off of the Republic troopers, sending a wave of panic through his being. By the time he’s looked up to see their shocked figures, however, the unnatural fog had already begun to dissipate. To his bemusement, the enemy troopers panicked even more than he had.

“Fall back!” a dozen of them shouted in unison, waving their arms in the same manner as they all ran into the wall.

One by one, they disintegrated with the fog, revealing the full, slightly damaged hangar in their places as they disappeared. More of them ran straight through the wall, dematerializing when they either made contact with solid surfaces or exited the fog. In the end, only a handful remained, all of them having escaped as the Sith had tried to guess which ones were real and which ones were illusions.

“Permission to disembark, my lord?”

“Granted, Mr. Yash,” Xuvas said into his helmets comm link, “and bring Trevjan out with you.”

“Understood.” Mr. Yash exited the shuttle’s first and joined the Sith juggernaut standing over a dead Miraluka. “What was all of that fog?”

“More Jedi mind tricks; he must have been concealing the hangar as a scare tactic,” Xuvas replied in mild disinterest. “He projected images of the hostiles Orcina has detected to make it look like he had a whole legion. If they’re trying to scare us out with tricks, then they might be understaffed.”

Out in the hangar, the fifty someodd Imperial troopers cautiously inspected the perimeter for traps while Xuvas stood by the control room. A handful of his troops joined him, including Pjiega, who was dragging Trevjan by the ear like a rebellious child.

“Please, wait, there must be some mistake!” the pilot protested to no avail as the large Rattataki woman pulled him inattentively. “I’m not combat personnel!”

This time when Xuvas felt a wave of anger, he wasn’t able to conceal it in his body language, and Trevjan quieted down once Pjiega let go of him at the control room. “We are surrounded by a larger crew which doesn’t know us or our work ethic,” he whispered into Trevjan’s reddened ear. “Don’t let them think less of you; this is your moment. You have to show them your resolve, and your skill.” He pulled away from the trembling pilot, tilting his chin up so that Trevjan would do the same. “You can do this. You were born to do this.”

More nervous than embarrassed, Trevjan looked over to the shuttle’s combat engineer and then back to Xuvas. “I was born to do this...” the human said weakly.

“You were born to do this!”

“I was born to...wait, what are we doing, my lord?”

Xuvas ushered his pilot over toward the control panel of the hangar. “This is where we need your IT skills. From here, you can access the entire ship. The final stage of our mission begins here. Can you start the final stage of the mission?”

Clearly overwhelmed, Trevjan looked at the control panel with sunken eyes, but he took a seat in front of it all the same. “I...I can start the mission, my lord,” he stammered.

“Very good. Start by setting up a local firewall to lock the Republic out, then open a direct link with the Black Talon’s bridge.”

“Done.”

A holoimage of Sylas flickered on, her hair a mess for reasons Xuvas couldn’t even speculate. He could have sworn that her uniform had been slightly singed by lasers.

Before she could speak, Xuvas gave a few more instructions. “Lock down their bridge, open up conventional video feed for every section of their ship, and eject all of their escape pods immediately.”

“Yes-“

“Lord Xuvas, the two Thranta corvettes have regrouped,” Sylas said haggardly without any introduction per protocol. “One of our two bombers is down, and the Thrantas are ignoring the remainder.”

“We need to spare two of the strikers from the dogfight, one to harass each Thranta.”

“We’re losing the dogfight, sir, because Shan’s Hammerhead has been sniping at our strikers.”

“Leave the scouts to harass the enemy starfighters, Lieutenant, and set two strikers against those Thrantas. Switch our gunship to start sniping at the Hammerhead’s thrusters.”

Sylas paused, hopeful yet ashen and not even bothering to wipe off her jacket from whatever had occurred on the Black Talon. “As you wish, my lord,” she replied with the same waver he’d heard in Orzik’s voice. He could only guess as to how demoralized the bridge had become if Sylas, their best performer, seemed so dejected.

“Permission granted to eliminate that Republic boarding team,” he added calmly. “If the corvettes are on the offensive, then hostages won’t serve any purpose.”

“Of course, I’ll pass on the order.” Sylas paused again, inhaling as if preparing for a marathon. “We’ll hold out until our last breath.”

Trevjan shivered audibly at her expression, and Xuvas intervened before any further demoralization could occur. “There, that screen. There’s a group of people hiding in the barracks.” He stretched the image with a flick of his wrist and zoomed in on about a dozen people, most of them armored. “There. One of them is a Rutian, unarmed. That has to be the ambassador.”

The few troopers who’d gathered around started peeking at the screen, and even Trevjan’s spirits seemed a little uplifted. “That’s our primary main objective,” Mr. Yash murmured.

“They appear to have barricaded themselves inside using their mattresses,” Trevjan said, his shivering gradually dissipating.

Pjiega, herself a former slave and no stranger to fighting in small spaces, smirked at the image. “Classic prison riot tactics. They’ll set those and any other mattresses on fire once we’re close, but they won’t anticipate anything other than a frontal assault on our part.”

“I need you on point for that,” Xuvas told her. “Trevjan, what are these other places in the images?”

Scrolling through the projected images with his fingers, the pilot tried to sort out all the sections of the Esseles. “Let’s see...outside the barracks, there are a whole bunch of enemy troops in the hall...there are two Jedi in the bridge alongside their crew...and...that’s it. Wait, that’s it?”

“If they laid a trap for our ship, perhaps they felt a larger contingent of troopers would be unnecessary,” Mr. Yash said.

“If that’s the case, then we must take the bridge first. Trevjan, you’re coming with us.” Xuvas left the control room before the pilot could protest and grabbed one of the troop officers standing in the hangar. “We’ve reached a resolution: I’ll take an advance team to the bridge, leaving a chain of defenders as we secure each section. At attention because this must be relayed to all troops.”

“Yes, Lord Xuvas!” the apparent corporal replied.

“We have fifty three troops and four pilots. This hangar must be secured as our final exit; twenty five of you will remain in this hangar to prevent any Republic ships from docking. Use their ships here and create a barricade for cover from fire.”

“And the rest of the troops, my lord?”

“Four to keep the control room on lockdown, four to secure the door to the rest of the ship, and twenty with me. It’s critical that the door leading in and out of the hangar is secured.”

“Yes, my lord. I’ll assign our marines to your unit.”

As soon as the corporal took his leave, a struggle at the control room caught the Sith’s yellow eye. Trevjan was apparently trying to sneak back to the shuttles only for Pjiega to drag him with Mr. Yash toward the door. Xuvas waited for six fire teams to join them before he approached, taking the lead wordlessly. The notion that they might not be prepared for his instructions crossed his mind, but he couldn’t reveal any doubts of his own; not then.

Not even looking at them, he exited the hangar into a passage leading to a cargo elevator. The entire group squeezed inside, weapons ready but silent. Xuvas accesses the control panel of the elevator to set a map of the ship to follow them in any hallway projectors they passed through. So focused was he on the computer work that he’d let his guard down.

“My lord!” one of the troopers yelled when the elevator was only open by an inch.

Cursing his own complacency, Xuvas raised his hand instinctively when he felt the presence of multiple sentient beings on the other side. They hadn’t seen any enemy troops there via the cameras-

“Fire!” bellowed an ugly, harsh voice.

His marines began to fire instead, setting their blaster rifles on the motley crew diving into side hallways. Xuvas only noticed the gas canister thrown at them when it was too late.

“Hold your-“

The explosion wasn’t particularly forceful, but it was LOUD. Feedback screeched into his earpiece, causing Xuvas to flinch even as he rushed in front of his troops defensively. He growled, drawing on the Force so roughly as he threw his hands up into the air that he felt his knees buckle. The flames and smoke of the explosion were pushed back, eliciting pained groans from the hostile targets, whoever they were. Another gas canister was thrown at them, slamming onto the ground. The Imperial marines all jumped away, Trevjan screamed, and Xuvas Force flung the canister back through the smoke at their unseen foes.

This time, whoever was trying to kill them shot the canister, creating a second loud explosion. Xuvas knew he couldn’t stand there deflecting flames and smoke forever - not when the Black Talon was waiting on them. Their time was short.

“Return fire - return fire now!”

His troopers complied, shooting into the hall as Xuvas continued blowing the smoke and flames away with Force pushes. Flaming debris was knocked further back, clearing a path until they reached the first side halls. After his troopers had cleared the corners, Xuvas stepped forward to survey their path. He had a clear view all the way up to the double doors of the bridge, their only obstacle being whatever enemies had taken cover in the side doors.

“Where did they come from?” Mr. Yash asked out loud.

“They must have spliced the security footage we saw with earlier reels - ones without them,” Xuvas replied as they crouched against the walls. One of the hostiles blind fired from around a corner further down the hall, revealing an armored but ununiformed arm. “These aren’t Republic troops.”

“You Imps aren’t the only ones who can pay top prices,” the same awful voice yelled from two hallways ahead.

The realization of just what they were dealing with caused the two Imperials to glance at each other from opposite walls. This was much worse than Republic troopers.

“Bounty hunters,” Xuvas sighed irately. “This is why I never wanted the Empire to accept-“

Xuvas cursed his complacency again when he’d allowed himself to be distracted. A stun grenade exploded right in between them, not even hitting the ground before it rattled the skullsnof everyone in the hallway. Xuvas felt himself slide against the wall and hit the floor, struggling back to his feet as seemingly every enemy in the sector began to unload blasters on them. Not even the Sith pureblood’s righteous anger could push him to his feet quickly enough, and several of the bounty hunters rushed his unit and began to ambush his troops with close-quarters weapons.

Stumbling to his feet despite the ringing in his ears, Xuvas grabbed the nearest non-Imperial he could and threw the unidentified bounty hunter into another, turning away before the metal of their armor even clanked together. The sight of a few of his own troopers rushing to close range with the enemy as well put him in figurative damage control mode.

“Don’t break formation! Stand together!” Xuvas yelled to no avail, and he found himself watching them riddled with lasers from all sides for their folly.

An unfortunately familiar scream caused the Sith to spin to one of the side halls.

“Help me!” Trevjan cried, causing Xuvas to wonder how the human had even been split apart from the others.

The pilot’s cap tumbled from his head as he fell into the clutches of a huge, cyclopean bounty hunter with more decorated armor than the rest. The brute was big, even for an Abyssin, and its beastly features visibly terrified Tervjan in a way that finally caused Xuvas a song of sympathy for the naive pilot. It wasn’t supposed to end up this way.

“Put him down!” Xuvas growled while drawing his lightsaber.

A vile laugh mixed with the sounds of blaster fire behind him, and Xuvas realized that he’d actually taken a few furious steps toward the Abyssin without even realizing it. The sight of his weakest follower lifted up off the ground by the throat enraged him more than he’d expected, a sort of protective instinct combining with guilt to boil his blood.

“So the Sith don’t kill their enemies, now?” the bounty hunter leader spat while talking, speaking in a thick, uneducated accent.

Xuvas approached until the Abyssin shook the mortified human in its claws, squeezing the hilt of his lightsaber. “The Sith kill the strong to test ourselves - only cowards kill the weak! Let him go!”

Unpretentious and debased, the lead hunter shook its head. “Zanjax doesn’t stop what Zanjax starts,” its crusty lips said.

The sound of poor Trevjan’s entire spine snapping hurt Xuvas far more than he could ever admit, and he screamed at both the bounty hunter and himself as he charged.


	12. The Jaws of Defeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone bit off more than they can chew...but who?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t own Star Wars.

Heat was all Xuvas could feel. From every direction, in every sense, he felt the heat. Heat from burning cables in the hallway’s ceiling. Heat from a smoldering incendiary grenade around the corner. Heat from the intensity of the blaster battle behind him.

Heat from his anger at a crew member being snatched away from him. Heat of embarrassment at having failed to protect his own.

Xuvas launched himself at the one-eyed savage that had killed one of his pilots. Trevjan’s mangled corpse laid on the ground in between them, twisted so completely that no roboticist could bring the human back with any amount of cybernetic enhancements. The thought of mangling the bounty hunter leader in the same way drove him, compelled him to leap before he looked.

An ugly, bestial grin spread across the Abyssin’s ugly face. Soaring the beastman, Xuvas charged his gauntlet with Force lightning, giving no thought to technique and essentially earning the stun prod shoved directly into his chestpiece.

“Rrrrrrrrrrrr!” the pureblood growled as non-Force lightning shocked him, making every muscle in his torso spasm. His armor’s grounding system protected his heart and nervous system, but the pain was beyond belief and enough to end his jump in midair.

Gripping the prod with both gnarled hands, the Abyssin crouched its big body into perfect form and pushed back. “You kill the strong to test yourself? Are you kidding?” it laughed mockingly.

Digging its heels into rubble and shrapnel, the savage drove the prod hard and pushed Xuvas into the wall hard enough to dent it. The durasteel on the other side didn’t conduct the electricity, but it trapped the Sith, preventing him from dislodging the stun prod. The tactical display screen inside of Xuvas’ helmet flickered on and off, and the more sensitive equipment in his breather and bracers began to smoke.

Using its long arms and stature, the Abyssin pushed Xuvas back when he managed to inch away from the wall, slamming him again and keeping the Sith out of striking distance. “Have you forgotten what you are, Sith?” it asked him.

Xuvas’ abs began to cramp up, convulsing until his body shook. He grabbed the prod with one hand, trying to wrestle it away to no avail; the Abyssin bounty hunter was massive, so much so that it had to duck its head in the hallway, and it had the advantage of leverage as well.

“The strong kill the weak; the difference between me and you is that I get paid!”

When Xuvas felt his heart palpitate, he knew he would be in danger momentarily. Nobody, no matter how powerful, could just stand and let themselves be electrocuted from long. The cyclopean beastman was stronger in terms of body, but Xuvas has the dark side. Reaching into his hate for the hunter’s assault, he slowly Force pushed the tip of the stun prod off of his chest. His mind was muddled from the electrocution, and his grip on the Force wavered, almost letting the Abyssin simply muscle its way to victory.

The creature was too smart, too experienced, for it dropped the prod once Xuvas began to make headway and drove a vibroknife into a gap in the Sith warrior’s armor. The heated blade slipped in between the plates covering Xuvas’ chest and shoulder, cutting into the pressurized padding beneath and slicing a fine cut into his skin.

“You’re not a hero!” the Abyssin bellowed in the pureblood’s face.

The glass of a disabled display panel in the hallway shattered when Xuvas growled again. “No...I’m the villain!” he Force screamed right back.

The Abyssin was flung back, its considerable frame slamming into the opposite wall, splitting it open, and knocking one of the automatic doors open. The surprise on its horrid face was so satisfying that Xuvas’ anger almost lessened. Almost.

“And there’s only room for ONE of us on this ship!”

The second Force scream broke the wall open, bursting pressurized water and nitrogen pipes that sprayed everywhere. Troop bunks bent and split beneath the beast man’s weight, sending debris all over the unoccupied room. The bounty hunter leader struggled to its big feet, visibly dumbstruck by its sudden loss.

Leaving it no opportunity to mount a counter strike, Xuvas grabbed the stun prod and rushed the cyclops, shoving the electrified stick into its primate mouth and igniting it. It gagged and convulsed, clumsily trying to strangle the Sith as its whole body was rocked. Its skull, veins, and nerves were all visible beneath the skin as the bolts of electricity pulsated, disappearing only when the prod overcharged and exploded inside of its mouth. Blood, chipped fangs, and part of its cheek splattered all over the place, and smoke even spewed out of its ears as it slumped to the floor.

The sound of blasters called him back into the main hall. He’d lost one crew member; he wanted to avoid losing as many more as he could.

“Press forward!” one of the bottom rung bounty hunters yelled, waving for his fellows to press against Xuvas’ own troops.

Without warning, he stepped into the main hall, right in the middle of his enemies. Half of them were facing him, and they were confused as all hell when he telekenetically launched all of them headfirst into the ceiling. A loud metallic thud echoed beyond the sound of broken water valves when their helmets dented the ceiling, and their blasters all clattered on the ground when they fell.

The other half of the hunters turned around to see what was happening, granting Xuvas time to Force pull their blasters to the floor. “Fire!” he yelled to his own troopers before ducking behind a corner.

More lasers and metal hitting the floor filled his ears, and he stepped back out to find the rest of the bounty hunters on the floor. They now had an unperturbed view of the bridge all the way up the hall.

“Mr. Yash, damage report?” Xuvas asked.

“We have one down and six more injured; they got the drop on us, my lord.”

“Assign five to take the bridge with me and ten to form a line of control from the elevator to the bridge. The remainder must help you tend to the wounded and prepare the body of our fallen.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Pjiega, collect the head of every bounty hunter here, even if some of them are still breathing. Take no prisoners.”

The Rattataki snorted through her nose excitedly and prepared her vibroaxe, nearly speechless. “Yes!” she replied with gusto.

Not wanting to be slowed down by anxiety from his troops or guilt at losing a longtime follower, Xuvas walked to the bridge without waiting for his five troopers to start. They hurried after him, leaving a line of marines securing the main hallway. His earpiece beeped at him before they could catch up, and he had to try a few times before he could receive an incoming call due to the damage from the stun prod.

“My lord, quick, please listen,” Brukarra spat frantically, almost hyperventilating. “We’re out of time!”

“Calm down; we have the upper hand here.”

His words didn’t have their intended effect. “My lord, we’ve lost the fight against the enemy starfighters; Shan was hiding half a squadron in her ship. Whatever starfighters we still have in space won’t make it back to our hangar.”

“Did they at least take out the Thranta corvettes?”

“Negative, Lord Xuvas. The Thrantas actually ignored us for a period and fought back against our starfighters, boxing them in while the Republic strikers took them out.”

“Tell me that the Defender corvettes were routed.”

“They...no, my lord. We destroyed one of them, and the other three have had their shields depleted, but they regrouped. They’re descending on our position now.”

Cursing under his breath, Xuvas reached back into his tactical training on Korriban and tried to remember similar situations in Imperial history.

“Damn them...Brukarra, our ship’s hull is nigh-impervious. We could scare them with a ramming maneuver against Shan’s Hammerhead. What’s the status report on our hull?”

She hesitated. He didn’t like it when Brukarra hesitated. Squeaking and asthma attacks he could deal with, but her silence was abnormal and chilling.

“Catastrophic, my lord. We had to seal the cargo hold when it was breached and depressurized. It’s too dangerous to send out our repair drones now.”

“Which side?”

“Port side, my lord.”

“Then we can’t hit Shan head on lest we damage the whole chassis, but we can sideswipe her ship.”

“Brukarra fell silent again. “You’re sure about this, my lord?” she asked, nervousness in her voice replaced by a lifeless monotone that was out of character for her.

“It’s all we ca-“

Interference crackled on his earpiece until the feed was cut, and he slapped his helmet with his palm to see if the old fashioned way of maintenance would work. The sound of a magnetic barrier igniting behind him made him spin around.

All along the main hallway, a series of barrier fields had emitted from the walls, creating cells which restricted his troopers from movement. One after the other, they were essentially imprisoned in a honeycomb that led all the way back to the elevator, cutting them off from one another. He hasn’t even noticed the emission nodes with all the debris, sprayed nitrogen, and bounty hunter corpses laying about, and he wondered if the trap had been planned all along.

Searching the final door to the bridge, he tried to find a control panel linked to the hallway itself, but alas, he only found the controls for the door itself - and they were locked down.

“Brukarra, do you copy?” he spoke into his helmet’s comm link. “Lieutenant Sylas, do you copy?”

A voice crackled on that was most definitely not that of his crew members.

“We warmed you, Sith,” a familiar voice said in an acidic tone.

“Satele Shan...”

“Grand Master Satele Shan to you, Darth Xuvas.” Her tone was curt and direct, and he knew that challenging her about the anger he felt welling up inside her wouldn’t get him anywhere. “Watch the projector to your left.”

Not granting him the chance to answer, a holoimage of the battle popped up. With multiple warships converging on them, the Black Talon had turned tail and seemed to be flying away from the Esseles.

“They abandoned you, Darth Xuvas. Your transport ship is leaving, smartly saving themselves as well as the lives of their crew and ours. They’re not so dense as to lead their own into wasteful deaths as you’ve done with the troops you dragged into that hallway with you.”

She was in his mind. He blocked her out and wondered how she’d gotten into his head so suddenly, but he couldn’t answer; to do so would confirm her passive aggressive taunting.

“It’s over, Sith. Your only ticket out of here is leaving, and the shuttles you have in the hangar don’t have hyperdrives installed. We have plenty of more boarding teams who can regain control of the Esseles’ hangar, and the ambassador won’t even have to witness the cleanup of your filth.

“You’re stranded, surrounded, imprisoned, and isolated. There is no way for you to escape, and you’ve proven too dangerous to be left alive. You’ll wait there until the Republic operatives arrive for your execution - this is out of the Jedi Order’s hands now.

“We’re done here.”

And then all the lights were shut off.


	13. Last Resort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.
> 
> If at second you don’t succeed, blow everything up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t own Star Wars.

For many long moments, Xuvas just stared at the ground in front of the bridge doors. His heart beat so quickly that he could feel his pulse up in his neck, racing in anticipation of a release which simply wouldn’t come. Trying and failing to find a form of mental clarity, he could only wallow in the cold emptiness of loss.

He hated the cold. The dark side fed on fury and rage, on the passion that nourished anybody with a soul. That passion, the brutal honesty of the desires which made his feelings run, provided a warmth that could see him through any challenge or crisis. But all he felt was cold...empty, emotionless cold. So dejected was he that he couldn’t even reach into his anger to drive him to victory. If he were broken, he could at least use the pain to fuel a second wind or a gallant last stand. But he didn’t even feel like a broken man; he felt empty. Devoid. Cold.

Reaching forward to the blue-tinged magnetic barrier, he tried to manually push his way out, just to test it out. As futile as it was, he couldn’t think of an immediate solution. His plans for outlasting the Republic armada hadn’t succeeded, stranding him and what personnel were trapped with him. Satele Shan had been right.

Too embarrassed to dwell on that fact, he tried every avenue that he had remaining. “Lieutenant Sylas, do you copy?” he asked into his comm link, receiving only static. “Officer Brukarra?” Again, static.

With his channels to the outside locked, he was left with little recourse. Behind him, he could vaguely see the outline of a marine in the next magnetic chamber, but he couldn’t discern exact movement due to the darkness. His wave may or may not have been returned, but it didn’t matter anyway. Neither of them could reach each other or help each other.

He tried his communications link internally. “Corporal? Do you copy?” he asked the troop leader in the hangar of the Esseles. He could sense his signal broadcasting, but there was no answer on the other end. There could have been an internal hack from Republic forces, or the hangar could have come under assault for all he knew.

He ran his hand over the back of his head, wondering at which point in the process of attack he’d made the fatal mistake. Perhaps it was a series of fatal mistakes...perhaps he’d simply doomed himself and his crew. He was fairly certain that Satele Shan was right.

That sentence continued to play in his head: Satele Shan was right.

When she said he and his followers had lost their only path of escape, she was right. When she said that the shuttles in the hangar couldn’t ferry them out of the void of normal space, she was right. When she said that there was no way for him and his crew to escape, she was right.

Satele Shan was right.

Nearly shivering as if suffering from a cold chill, Xuvas clenched his fists tightly and released. He was powerless, cut off from all options in that magnetic tomb, coerced into waiting at the beck and call of an enemy. That feeling of powerlessness, that he had no free choices to make, was worth than death. If that magnetic chamber was to be his coffin, then Shan could at least have the decency to put the last nail in it. Even he, as a Sith, favored swift deaths to his foes for the sake of efficiency; dragging out suffering granted him no benefits and wasted time. This Jedi Grand Master, however, valued her false sense of moral superiority so much that she was inadvertently increasing his suffering anyway. Her order’s supposed distaste for killing with their own hands wasn’t noble, but rather a mere smoke screen, doublespeak for just another form of torture.

It hurt. He hurt. Every moment he spent under the control of another hurt. He was in chains.

That sensation of being chained, more than anything, ignited the first spark.

Igniting his lightsaber, Xuvas approached the thick doors to the ship’s bridge and measured it. He could feel its dimensions through the Force, the complexity of the lock, and the size of the modest bridge beyond. The pristine condition he could sense on the other side, the unblemished consoles and spotless floors, lightly blew on that spark inside and helped to kindle it. He squeezed the hilt of his weapon, seething at the thought of the command of the Esseles waiting in comfort and luxury while his troops were locked up.

As he stared at the de-powered entrance, a new voice crackled in on his communications link. “Sith, this is Captain Tyranus of the Esseles. Our bridge’s doors are sealed; you’ll achieve nothing if you attack,” the apparent captain said, only fanning the flames of Xuvas’ anger to the point that his throat tingled as if he had heartburn.

Rearing back, Xuvas scraped his red lightsaber against the corner of the door. The durasteel was strong and thick, and it resisted the power of the weapon to an extent, but there was a sizeable cut in the metal. Angered by the door itself, by a mere inanimate object, he slashed at it again, digging the same wound deeper as if he could share his pain with the non-living metal barrier.

“You’re only wasting your time,” the man who called himself Tyranus said. “Those doors are made of the best materials the Republic has to offer.”

Refusing to even grant the captain the dignity of a disagreeable grunt, Xuvas just slashed again, gripping his weapon with both hands. He cut the corners, he cut the center, he spent minute after minute carving deep lines until the edges of the door became indiscernible from the wall.

“Sith, you must cease and desist. A boarding team is coming for you and your troops shortly.” When Xuvas ignored the captain’s calls, Tyranus apparently turned and spoke with his underlings without closing the comm link. “He’s not responding.”

“Or even reacting,” said another member of the crew.

“Is this thing on?” Tyranus asked.

“Yes,” replied the slow voice of a Jedi - Xuvas didn’t know the person, but knew their profession from the speech pattern. “And he very well might be listening...Captain, he just stabbed right through the door’s lock.”

“Don’t worry, Uru,” Tyranus said, “all he’s done is sealed us in here. We’ll need that boarding team to perform repairs, but we’re sealed in tight.”

“I still think he’s listening to us,” the Jedi Uru said.

“What’s he doing!” the voice of the second crew member exclaimed.

During their brief exchange, Xuvas had stabbed his weapon directly into all of the sensitive looking equipment on the door, no longer thinking of goals or purposes to his actions. His failure hurt him deeply, wounded not only his pride but his very sense of self, and he lashed out at anything in his reach like a wounded vine cat. Literal sparks flew as he cut his lightsaber into the door in every direction, throwing his entire body weight into his strikes and he practically molded and shaped the durasteel with the heat of his blade.

“Sith, you’ve already lost,” said Uru the Jedi. “Stop this at once - it’s over. Retain your dignity and honor, and accept your loss in a stride.”

“The last boarding pods from Grand Master Shan’s ship have made contact,” said the second voice. “Three teams of the Republic’s best marines will board the lower decks in seconds.”

Ignoring them entirely, Xuvas continued to poke holes in the durasteel and carve slices into it until it looked like a chewed up piece of cheese. The sheer heat from his furious slicing and dicing ignited the chamber’s fire safety sprinklers, though they were shut off, most likely by the crew.

The second voice began to panic. “Captain, he’s going to cut right through the door!”

“He can’t, he’s only scraping at the edges-“

Without warning, Xuvas stopped slicing the door and focused all of his energy, all of his rage at losing, at the mangled door. Every ounce of fury he felt at the crew for caging him like some animal, every drop of bitterness over losing, every iota of ire over being robbed of such ambitious plans, all of it sprayed at the door like an acidic leak in a high-pressure valve. Growling deep in his chest, he launched every negative emotion he felt at that door, right at the center of it, even when he watched it smash into the navigation console opposite him.

Screams rang out in the bridge as the metal doors screeched and broke at the damaged hinges. Molten durasteel glistened on the frame Xuvas had cut, illuminating his chamber as he stepped out into the modest control area for the entire transport ship. A skeleton crew of only a few technicians scattered, though a few were killed by the door smashing the navigation consoles (and their bones) into shrapnel. The thundering crash of the door shook the entire floor, and a number of survivors scrambled for cover.

In the center, two Jedi stood with their lightsabers at the ready. The master known as Uru, an older Miraluka woman, stood at ease despite wielding her weapon. Her Padawan, a large human who was even bigger than Xuvas himself, seemed less relaxed.

“This ends here, Sith!” the Padawan said in a ridiculous deep voice that was obviously not his normal speaking voice.

Uru held a hand out for her student to wait. “One moment, Jett. Sith, I’m Uru of the Jedi Order. I beseech you to consider the consequences of your-“

In the middle of her sentence, Xuvas Force pulled a mug of coffee from one of the consoles and pushed it right into Jett’s head. The porcelain antique shattered, knocking the overgrown student to his knees and scalding him with hot coffee. The youth screamed, dropping his guard long enough for Xuvas to leap past him and swing hard for Uru’s neck. She was fast, and experienced enough such that his strength wasn’t enough for him to bully her around, but his burning wrath was such that blocking his strike caused her to drop her hands.

With her upper body undefended, Xuvas headbutted her, knocking her against one of the consoles and laying her prone. He charged straight into his, striking so hard that when she blocked him again, the momentum slammed her back into the machinery and broke a keyboard projector. Her arms shook at the effort to maintain the block even when he merely laid his body weight into pinning her without striking again.

“What is it that drives you to reject...hrrrnn...acceptance of your loss?” Uru asked him. “Hope? Do you believe you can actually salvage this ignoble mission?”

Figuratively on fire, Xuvas tensed up even more when he sensed the clumsy student rise behind him. “Not hope,” he said while turning around and releasing one hand from his grip on his lightsaber.

Arching his fingers in the direction of the novice Padawan, Xuvas shot arcs of electricity and shocked Jett to his core. “HATE!” the enraged pureblood growled.

Though Xuvas wasn’t even very skilled with Force Lightning, the Padawan didn’t seem familiar with the relatively weak casting of it. Jett fell to the ground in a crumpled heap, his impressive stature for naught as the young man reacted in confused fear. “Master, I can’t take it!” Jett screamed, though even Xuvas suspected that the Padawan probably could take such a sloppy, haphazard casting of Force Lightning once he got over the initial surprise.

Uru pursed her lips and tried to push Xuvas off of her, making some headway. Despite her stoic expression, the Sith juggernaut could feel the heat rising in her brain.

“You’re angry!” Xuvas hissed while pushing her back against the console. “You despite what I’m doing and why I’m doing it!”

“Your passion doesn’t allure me,” Uru said in a strained voice.

“So let the boy die if you feel nothing, you psychopath!” Xuvas said, giving a bit of ground to the Jedi so he could turn and shock the Padawan again.

Jett arched his back as if he were having a spasm. “Make it stop, master Uru!” he screamed when Xuvas actually focused and cast the Force Lightning as best he could despite never properly training in it.

“I’m coming, Jett!” the Miraluka croaked just as Xuvas switched back to a two-handed grip and slammed her against the console. “There is no passion...”

“There is passion, you brainwashed zealot!” Xuvas yelled, even more bothered by the deviated creed of the Jedi than their attempt to stifle his mission. “Life is passion, it’s love, it’s hate, it’s so much more than you maniacs think it is! Everything that makes life beautiful is from passion!”

“Haken, no!” Uru yelled.

From behind him, Xuvas felt the heat of a blaster pistol warming up his upper back. A crew member was trying to shoot him with rapid fire, failing to damage his heavy armor but certainly adding to his ire.

Force choking Uru, Xuvas spun around and swung her into Jett like a kid hitting a piñata, leaving the two of them dazed on the floor. A single human stood in the center of the bridge, still shooting at Xuvas right until the Sith cut him to smoldering pieces. The man known as Captain Tyranus reached for a pistol as well, but Xuvas grabbed it and crushed both the weapon and Tyranus’ hand.

“Activate the ship’s manual controls!” Xuvas ordered the Republic captain.

“Never!” Tyranus croaked as his last words because Xuvas struck him down as soon as he refused.

The Sith warrior grabbed the nearest civilian crew member. “Activate the ship’s manual controls!” he ordered.

The frantic Chagrian cadet flailed ineffectively in the pureblood’s grip. “Esseles manual control act-“

“No!” Jett cried.

The dazed Padawan grabbed Xuvas from behind and lifted him off the ground, pulling him away from the blubbering cadet on the floor. Angered at the disruption of his work, Xuvas grabbed the youth’s bigger hands and actually pried Jett’s fingers off of him as roughly and painfully as possible.

“That’s enough out of you!” Xuvas growled while headbutting Jett in the jaw. The human fell down again, and Xuvas Force choked him with both hands.

“You’re killing him!” a random crew member cried.

“No, I’m just strangling him into unconsciousness!”

Jett’s face turned almost as deep a shade of red as Xuvas’ before the human finally passed out, gurgling in a disgusting manner and slumping beneath a control panel. The crew screamed when Xuvas turned back to them and lifted the Chagrian cadet by the collar.

“Activate the ship’s manual controls!” he ordered the cadet a second time.

“Esseles manual control-“

A large metal object slammed into Xuvas’ back, knocking the cadet out of his hand and pushing him away from the console. As soon as he turned around, a blue lightsaber struck his shoulder, searing into the pauldron enough to warp the surface and burning the skin beneath the armor enough to leave a mark. He met Uru’s next strike defensively but was pushed back, warmed again by the heat of the anger which she denied.

“That’s enough bloodshed!” the Miraluka grit out of her teeth while straining against him. She pulled back to swing again and was met with a swift kick to her torso.

“I feel what it does to you! What seeing it does to you!” Xuvas swung back, crossing blades with her and forcing her to spin out awkwardly. “Stop pretending that you don’t feel!” he said while striking so hard that Uru’s arm twisted when she blocked.

“Hrnn!” she grunted as she dropped her lightsaber. Holding her palms out, she attempting to hold him back telekenetically. “You won’t distract me with your taunts.”

He met her push with his own, sending his own telekinetic wave. Their pushes met in the middle, negating one another as they both strained. To the uninformed observer, they’d look like two crazy people flailing their arms at each other, but the reality was a climactic attempt by both of them to end the fight.

“Taunts? I’m sincerely bothered by the waste of raw power your Order promotes!”

“I’ve found my peace, Sith!” she replied, though he could feel the frustration rising within her, feeding into his own sense of ire.

Even if she did feel more emotion than she admitted to herself, her resolve was that of steel. Finding her willpower too strong to break, Xuvas finally tired of the conversation. He released his own push, allowing hers to strike him. The Sith juggernaut took the Force push in a stride and allowed himself to be moved backward a meter, never breaking his posture. Uru stumbled at the sudden lack of resistance, disoriented from the sudden gap in the Force left by Xuvas’ withdrawal.

Feeling into every area of the bridge, Xuvas Force pulled a series of cables from a monitor tied to the ship’s water treatment system. The thick, grounded rubber cables practically mummified the Miraluka, wrapping around in such a convoluted mess that her mind would have difficulty unwrapping them even if she focused. Losing her balance, she fell to the floor and writhed like a collicoid grub.

“Please, Sith, consider what you’re doing! Think about the lives lost in-“

Ignoring her, Xuvas grabbed a random human cadet since the Chagrian had gone into hiding. Without even being prompted, the terrified cadet complied with the earlier demand. “Esseles manual control activate!” she blurted out as soon as her feet had left the ground.

“Manual controls activated,” the robotic voice of the helm announced.

Xuvas dropped the cadet, allowing her to livemper the understood bargain. Pressing a few buttons on the console, he was able to switch to open voice control using the manual controls.

“Ram Satele Shan’s ship on the starboard side, just behind the bridge.”

“I don’t want to die!” the Chagrian cadet whined from his hiding place.

Uru fought to her knees despite possessing the dimensions of a larva with her limbs tied down. “You call me a psychopath, yet you’re the one sending us all on a kamikaze dive! Why are you doing this? Killing the ambassador is only a minor victory for the Empire, and at the cost of your own life. Don’t be so naïve as to think the Emperor values your life individually.”

Xuvas turned halfway while maintaining the controls. “You think to much; it’s why life is a joyless grey mass for you and your Order,” he said.

“How can you talk about joy when you’ve condemned us all to die? Your errant sacrifice of us all will be of little consequence!”

“Spoken like a true Jedi, you coward!” Xuvas then flipped a switch to increase the Esseles’ acceleration to the point that the engine started to overheat. “If I die this day, then let it be by my own choosing, for something greater than myself!”

“To assassinate an ambassador? Your life for hers? Your crew for ours?”

“Yes! By domination or attrition, the Empire will win these wars among the stars! Let my blood spill if it brings a single victory!”

The ship’s AI interrupted their brief exchange. “Warning: collision imminent. Massive damage expected,” the hollow computer voice rang.

With the Hammerhead frigate in his sights, Xuvas began to push the holobutton for the ship’s throttle. “Peace is a lie!” he shouted as Shan’s ship occupied the entire field of vision of the Esseles’ viewing window.

The crew members on the bridge ducked and covered, and Uru tried to meditate. Xuvas merely braced himself against the control console as he closed the gap with the larger ship.

“There is only passion!”


	14. Little Hindrances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes when you keep failing, the universe might be telling you to try something different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t own Star Wars.

The Esseles approached within less than fifty meters from Satele Shan’s Hammerhead. Crew members wailed on the bridge, expecting a fiery death for them all as Darth Xuvas drove them into a last ditch kamikaze dive.

Just when a fatal victory seemed within his grasp, a blue light flashed just out of the bridge’s field of vision, and the Esseles began to slow down greatly.

“Tractor beam detected,” rang the voice of the ship AI.

“Bring up battlefield imaging,” he ordered the control panel.

Since he’d destroyed the nagivation console upon his dramatic entrance, he only had a rather small image to resort to for situational awareness. From what he could tell from the partial, distorted hologram, the tractor beam on the front of Shan’s ship was pulling the Esseles off course, not averting a collision so much as neutralizing it. His trajectory was off, and the resulting crash would be unlikely to destroy either ship.

“Kriff,” he grumbled, his last resort foiled. More anger welled up inside of him as he realized that Satele Shan seemed to remain one step ahead of him at every point, stymying his plans. “Activate angular thrusters to counteract the trajectory of the tractor beam.”

“Reduction of acceleration guaranteed,” said the AI.

“Do it anyway.”

“Why are you still doing this, Sith?” Uru asked from her spot on the floor. “Your plans have already been nullified, try to retain some dignity!”

“Dignity is a concept lost on a utilitarian ideologue like you. You’re wasting your breath.”

“Collision imminent,” said the AI. “Brace for impact.”

Ramming the Hammerhead frigate felt like a seismic planetary quake. Although the sound of metal scraping on metal was lost in the vacuum of space, the sound of the rafters and ship chassis shaking boomed inside the Esseles. The ship’s artificial gravity held, maintaining balance but rocking back and forth so violently that every member of the crew collapsed anyway. Xuvas gripped the steering controls to remain upright, but even he could feel the violence of the collision.

“Damage reduced due to angle of impact,” announced the AI.

Having struck the Hammerhead at a wide angle, the Esseles started to scrape against the side of it as the thrusters continued to blast. Debris from both ships, though mostly the Esseles, flew in front of the viewing shield, blocking out any view of the scene around them.

“Keep pushing! Control their movement!” Xuvas ordered.

“Thrusters engaged at full capacity.”

Another random human cadet popped up from behind a chair. “Manual overri-“

Before the frazzled man could finish his sentence, Xuvas Force pushed him into the back wall swiftly enough to kill the cadet instantly, garnering more screams from the crew.

“Target ship has engaged angular thrusters for countermeasure,” the AI said.

“Initiate hyper-“

This time, it was Xuvas who was cut off in mid sentence when he noticed a shadow rise behind him. A massive weight slammed into his side, knocking him into a pile of chairs and Republic technicians, grievously injuring a few of them. Dazed and bruised, he leapt to his feet and turned around to see that an air duct in the ceiling was hanging open; the sound of it opening had likely been masked by the ship collision.

What had hit him appeared to be the entire radar console, ripped from the floor and thrown at him. By the time he saw what exactly could have lifted that thing, it was already coming at him, single furious eye and all.

“Zanjax does not lose!” the Abyssin howled as it pounced on Xuvas.

The pureblood made the mistake of reaching for his lightsaber, underestimating how fast the massive cyclopean beast was. Zanjax’s greater weight collided with Xuvas like the two ships had, knocking them both over but dealing the brunt of the damage to the latter. They both skid across the floor, and with great effort, Xuvas was able to roll and summersault to his feet in time to draw his weapon.

A swing aimed up at the beast’s ugly head was met with a metal panel ripped from the floor. Zanjax wielded the panel like a shield, deflecting the lightsaber but obscuring its own vision. Thinking fast, Xuvas grabbed a bunch of random pipes from the space where the panel had been, yanking on them and breaking them open. A strange gas sprayed onto Zanjax, causing it to cough and retreat until the bridge’s environmental control system shut off the pipes. Xuvas tried to capitalize, swinging into the gaseous cloud and cutting the panel shield in half. Gripping one half of the panel, Zanjax swung blindly in the gas cloud, leaving itself open.

One stiff Force push knocked the Abyssin into the smoldering remains of the bridge’s door frame. Embers and blood dropped from the beastman’s back as it fell and hit the floor hard, creating an aura of calm in the bridge even as the Esseles shook against Shan’s frigate.

“Ships locked,” the AI said opaquely.

Keeping one eye on the motionless Abyssin body, Xuvas walked back over to the helm. A hologram of the two ships showed that the head of the Esseles had wedged itself into a crook in the contours of the Hammerhead frigate. The scraping had stopped and the smaller ship was simply nudging the larger one.

“Let our blood spill for the glory of the Empire,” Xuvas said one last time, hoping that his estranged children and family would remember him as a warrior who achieved his goals no matter what. “Initiate hyperdr-“

A wild lightsaber swing cut a centimeter from the Sith’s helmet and sliced through the support bars which allowed the ship’s pilot to stand evennduring turbulence. Xuvas sidestepped a second swing and parried, twisting his arms out and disarming the human Padawan. The young man had, apparently, woken up already.

When the Padawan tried to Force push him, Xuvas physically pushed back, knocking the topheavy human over a communication panel shaped like a narrow table. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, boy, but our fates are sealed.” Force pulling every stray chair in the bridge, Xuvas slammed the Padawan into the viewing shield, pinning him down with a wall of furniture (though the impact of being slapped in the face with chairs probably had more to do with knocking him out). Bruised like a prune, the Padawan hit the floor, crawling but too dazed to pose any threat.

“If you only knew the peace of the light side, Sith.” Uru squirmed and worked herself out of the cables, but Xuvas was beyond taking chances and manually tied the ends in knots. “You will not find the passion you seek.”

“There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?” Xuvas said while returning to the helm.

Uru shook her head, her eyebrows displaying her rising ire quite evocatively. Xuvas was pleased that he’d gotten to the Jedi, even if he was disappointed that he’d have to lay down his life before he’d started to cross off items on his bucket list.

A strong tug in the Force caught his attention, and he turned around to find that Uru had acted before he could intervene. Her unconscious student’s lightsaber flew across the bridge toward the Abyssin’s gnarled hands. Looking like a really annoying shadow that wouldn’t go away even in the dark, the Republic bounty hunter stood as if it weren’t hurt one bit. Its teeth were visible since its left cheek had been blown off by a stun prod, and its gear was covered in sticky blood and burn marks. Despite being so wrecked, despite having been burned and electrocuted, the non-Force sensitive was very much alive and now wielding a lightsaber.

“Kriff,” Xuvas grumbled. “Initiate-“

A natural, non-Force leap put Zanjax right next to the Sith juggernaut. Though clearly unused to the light weight of the lightsaber, the savage attacked regardless, cutting random cables and wires in the bridge as it chased Xuvas vigorously. Probably more used to a heavy vibrosword, the beastman seemed to strike everything except for its target with the less cumbersome weapon, swinging with reckless abandon as it tried to earn its pay.

One wrong move, an overextended swing, was all Xuvas needed to disarm Zanjax of both its weapon - and the hand holding it.

“Maggot!” the Abyssin brayed as its severed hand hit the floor.

Without any delay, its other hand was wrapped into a fist and slammed right in the front of Xuvas’ helmet. Even the mighty Sith juggernaut reeled, knocked silly by the strength of the savage.

As Xuvas regained his footing and folded into a protective stance, he witnesses one of the most disgusting scenes he could remember. Reaching to its cauterized wrist stump, the Abyssin actually scratched its own wound open, letting itself bleed. While Xuvas was too awed by the abominable act, Zanjax reached forward with its stump and smeared its own blood over the glass eyeholes on Xuvas’ helmet.

“You piece of filth!” Xuvas gasped in disgust.

Blinded, he was unable to defend when the Abyssin started to wail on him. Kicking and punching with its one hand, the being more monster than man pummeled Xuvas’ against a wall. Though his heavy armor didn’t give way, the juggernaut’s internal helmet display warned him of internal damage to his ribs and pelvis due to the blunt trauma.

Xuvas couldn’t even reach into the depths of his memory for a similar situation because his head was too rattled. He might have remembered being cornered in a similar manner, but the idea was lost when Zanjax kicked him through the only remaining, unbroken communications console in the bridge. When Xuvas rolled away for a moment of clarity, his mind was rocked as his body was when Zanjax hit him across the room. When Xuvas backlfipped to put space in between them, his remembrance was interrupted when Zanjax picked up a dead cadet and threw the corpse at him. Every attempt to think his way out of the problem was foiled.

The memory came to him when Zanjax tried stomping him through the floor. In his first few weeks at the academy on Korriban, he’d been assaulted by a group of rival acolytes. The three of them together weren’t as dangerous as the mad cyclops, but he was also no longer an acolyte.

When Zanjax stomped on his chest again, Xuvas ignored the pain in his diaphragm and grabbed the beastman’s foot and felt for the location of its knee. Pushing and shrimping away on the ground until he’d created enough space, he kicked it in the kneecap as hard as he could.

Zanjax howled, falling to its hands and knee, momentarily out of commission. Not wasting any time, Xuvas felt the savage through the Force and pulled it down into the dent created in the floor by aforementioned stomping. When the broken floor panel gave way, Xuvas pulled more through the Force, and more, and more again, dragging Zanjax down to the very chassis of the Esseles. For good measure, he Force dragged stray debris from their fight down into the hole in the floor, burying his foe in a pit of scrap metal and glass.

The freaks of the ship and the sobbing of the surviving crew members filled his ears, irritating Xuvas as he scraped the blood off of his helmet and slowly, painfully stood up.

Panting and spitting out his own blood, Xuvas stood in the middle of the bridge, surrounded by embers, sparks, and bodies. If there were a more fitting scenario for a Sith to die in, he didn’t know of it.

Holding onto his side to apply pressure to a crack in his armor and a bruise on his ribs underneath, Xuvas walked to the steering console of the ship. Out of nowhere, the Chagrian cadet popped up, waving his arms in surrender. “Wait, if you jump into hyperspace this close, you’ll cut us all in half!” the desperate cadet pleaded.

As hurt as Xuvas was, pushing the violet man over was quite easy. “That’s kind of the plan. Now, out of my way...I have the Grand Master in my grasp-“

“I can do a hard reset and free your entire crew!”

Uru gasped at the Chagrian. “That will kill everyone in the engine room!” she said.

The cadet didn’t listen. “Your crew will be free and all communication locks will be opened. You already have the ambassador on board, just jump to hyperspace and turn her over to your people!”

“Traitor!” hissed another surviving cadet.

“I don’t want to die!” the Chagrian said. “Please, don’t do a kamikaze run - I don’t want to die!” The man fell to his knees, begging at the Sith’s feet.

Xuvas grabbed the guy by the lethorns, ignoring the pained cries as he threw the Republic cadet onto the control panel. “Do it. Now. If it doesn’t work, I’m killing you slowly...and then killing us all anyway.”

“Voice command: hard reset!”

“No!” Uru yelled, warming up Xuvas’ wounds with her denied anger.

“Hard reset: flushing engine room. Complete. Releasing septic and waste tanks. Complete. Resetting all passwords. Complete. Erasing all dejarik scorecards. Complete.”

“Oh, not fair,” one of the cadets whined.

What struck Xuvas the most was the sheer volume of all the calls flooding into the bridge. Holograms, text, lights, explosions, they all flashed on the relatively small terminal of the bridge’s steering controls. Yellow eyes darting around, Xuvas struggled to take it all in, even operating all of the channels with his hands.

“Lord Xuvas, can you hear me!” Lieutenant Sylas said in as close to ‘frantic’ as her proper and composed voice could be.

“Lieutenant!” he gasped.

Her dismayed image flickered on and off, but her voice was loud and clear. “My lord, what happened?! Where have you all been, we were cut off!”

“I thought you and the crew had fled!”

“Fled!” she gasped, sincerely offended. “We rammed the ship just like you told us, in coordination with you ramming it with the Esseles! Weren’t you watching?”

“Shan’s ship is blocking my view, I couldn’t see a thing, and our communications were locked out!”

“I know the second part, but...oh dear...my lord, I must bring you up to speed! A noble house from the Chiss Ascendancy has arrived, just like you requested, and the Mandalorians are here! Your troops in the hanger are dealing with the boarding pods, but we don’t know how to coordinate everything! What are we supposed to do?

“We need our leader!”

Xuvas straightened up and watched the images of his troops fighting valiantly but losing against a not insignificant Republic boarding party. A battlefield relay of the new allies being overwhelmed by additional Republic backup warships flashed in and out, and an image of the ambassador ordering enemy troopers to further embed themselves held steady in front of him.

Inside his helmet where nobody could see, his lip quivered slightly upon realization that he wouldn’t die quite yet - not when he was needed. Love for the honor of serving for another day, hate for being delayed from a noble end he’d prepared for, and a lot more emotion swirled around inside of him. He didn’t need Jedi peace; he had all the power he needed.

Spitting a little more blood into the armor of his breathed and letting go of his aching side, he popped his shoulder back into place after the savage had apparently dislocated it.

“We’ll be off of this ship in ten minutes. We’re not done yet.”


	15. Mad Dash to the Finish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the end in sight, our villains make a final push to spoil the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t own Star Wars.

Ignoring his aching ribs, Darth Xuvas pulled up as many holocasts as he could, though the capability of the mere steering console was limited. Five separate displays came up, all of them small and with poor reception but just good enough for him to get a general idea of what was happening. The enemy was closing in on them from all sides, and he knew that there wasn’t much time left.

“Lieutenant, I’ll be quick; we must focus on the big picture first. Look at this.” He pulled up a tactical display of the surroundings of the Esseles and the other starships. Sure enough, the Black Talon was scraping against the other side of Satele Shan’s Hammerhead frigate, pushing the larger ship in a cyclone formation. “There are two more enemy Thranta corvettes attacking our forces. Is that a squadron of Republic starfighters each?”

“Yes, but Lord Xuvas, you’re losing troops in the hangar to the Republic marines,” Sylas said.

“Big picture first, Lieutenant. The previous two Thrantas, and those Defenders, what’s their status?”

“The previous Thrantas fled; one Defender remains and seems to be fighting to the end. And yes, there’s a squadron each from the new Thrantas, plus half as much left over from the earlier skirmishes. Our Chiss allies have arrived in three military transport bombers; the Mandalorians have a Mantis and four Demolishers.”

Quickly reviewing calculations in his head, Xuvas formed a plan that could finally kill two birds with one stone. “Order the Chiss to attack the Thrantas and Defender only; order the Mandalorians to both attack the Republic starfighters and to provide suppression fire to cover the Chiss. Prevent the two groups from communicating with one another even if you have to subtly hack the radio links for the Mandalorians.”

Ever composed even when her uniform had been burned, Sylas didn’t react outwardly. He could still detect a hint of hesitation in her eyes, though. “My lord, would that not be a suicide run for the Mandalorians?” she asked politely.

Xuvas smirked beneath his ravaged helmet, holding back his plans for as long as he could. “They’ll consider it an honor to fight on two fronts, but the Chiss will be reluctant to engage when the odds aren’t in their favor,” he replied, only partially hiding the truth. “And if you all can provide extra laser fire to keep Republic starfighters off of the Chiss, then do so. Don’t fire at the Hammerhead because we’re still working here and don’t need any stray shots hitting us.”

“Shall Captain Orzik relay those commands to the two sides, or do you wish to address them yourself?”

“Please have the Captain do so, or contact them on your own if he orders it; I don’t want anyone other than you to contact me directly until this is over. Before you go, there’s the matter of our escape plan.” He pulled up a two-dimensional video of the hangar in the Esseles, wherein an intense firefight had begun. “There are two Republic shuttles there, and one of our own has survived. We’ll jump directly to Alderaan this time, so there’s no problem if the Republic shuttles are bugged; Shan won’t risk following us and picking a fight directly in view of that planet when we hijack their shuttles.”

“The Imperial transport bombers of the Chiss are barely small enough to fit in the hangar, if need be. Shall I put them in standby, my lord?”

“Only if we lose the last shuttles here; otherwise, don’t mention that.” He paused, watching a stray gunship targeting the Black Talon. “Hurry, Lieutenant. We can finish in our end.”

Stoic and saluting even with her bad hair and singed clothes, Sylas wasted no time. “Understood, my lord,” she said before disappearing from the screen.

Wasting no time himself, Xuvas started to leave, briefly regarding the Jedi master as she tried to meditate while wrapped up in cables. “Don’t go anywhere,” he told her while suppressing the urge to laugh. “I have a friend who’s dying to meet you.” She ignored him, though he felt her resentment follow him out the door as he walked back into the hallway where his troops were coming under fire.

Heart pounding merrily, Xuvas stepped over severed bounty hunter heads and flaming pieces of the ship’s ceiling as he strode toward the elevator, where his troops had been pushed back and boxed in. Republic marines had pierced the hull of their own faction’s ship just to assault his troops, and the impromptu barricade the Imperial troopers had made from corpses and broken doors were in fire and not holding up well. Xuvas still took his time, letting the indignance and rage at the sight of his troops being outnumbered well up inside of him.

Halfway down the hall, one of the Republic marines noticed his approach. “A Sith! I need a few guns aimed that way!” the white-clad commando said to his fellows.

Grinning beneath his helmet, Xuvas balled up his hate for the Republic and all it stood for, letting it radiate out of his in waves. Those waves crashed on the Republic marines, affecting them mentally and drawing their attention away from his own flock. One by one, the Republic fighters turned around to see him, an unnatural and unprovoked hate flashing within them. One by one, those Republic fighters opened fire in him, emptying their blasters against his cracked but still functional heavy armor and a sonic barrier he erected from the Force as he walked, throwing their time away as they shot laser blasts at a wall of energy. And one by one, those Republic fighters fell as his own troopers gained the upper hand and shot down the more numerous assailants.

Bodies littered the main hall of the Esseles’ command level. Republic troopers, Republic marines, bounty hunters, even Imperial marines, they all covered so much floor space that walking was becoming hazardous in the area. One of his surviving troops, armor burnt but spirits now high, rushed to greet him.

“Thank you, my lord; they started shooting at us before the magnetic fields had even come down!”

“Stay alert, Corporal; two more Thrantas have arrived, along with our Chiss allies,” Xuvas said, being selective with his words. “They might send more boarding parties and I need you all to secure this deck. Put the barracks out of your mind.”

“But my lord, how will we complete our mission objective of arresting the ambassador?”

The floor shook as the Esseles acutely changed direction. The chassis creaked and the hull shook, and a lot of metal debris scraped and echoed from the bridge.

“They’re trying to get the Esseles un-stuck from Shan’s ship,” Xuvas murmured. Corporal, secure this deck and tend to the wounded until I say otherwise.” He then pointed at two of his party, a trooper in red rather than black armor, and a heretofore motionless stranger in a black robe. “You two, we’re securing the bridge and catching the ambassador together. Come on!”

They all dispersed to the sound of laser and missile fire outside. As Xuvas walked carefully over corpses to the bridge with his two followers, Brukarra tried to contact him on the radio in his helmet. His comm link must have been busted during the fight with the cyclops, but he did distinctly hear the word ‘torpedo’ mentioned; all he could do was hope that his instructions were followed.

As soon as he entered the bridge, a series of chairs flew directly at his head. A Force push knocked them away, but he already knew what had happened.

Shaking with suppressed anger, Jett glared at the Sith through swollen, bloodied eyes. The human had woken up from the series of thrashings and looked ready for another round. Uru, for her part, had actually untied herself with the Force and already had her lightsaber out. Both Jedi were battered, beaten, and fatigued, but Xuvas could sense the fury the two of them pretended didn’t exist. He wouldn’t be able to take them as trophy prisoners.

“This ends now, you hate monger,” Uru said firmly. She even pointed to the floor as if drawing an imaginary line. “You will not kidnap Ambassador Asara today.”

More amused than angry, Xuvas simply folded his arms across his chest. “There’s truth mixed with falsehood in that,” he said dismissively.

The Miraluka shook her head, defiance rising in her. Still, the hooded figure next to him continued to catch her attention simply by remaining so still and statuesque, and a strange hesitation in Uru’s actions made Xuvas lightly chuckle with joy.

“What is this?” Uru murmured as she stared at the newcomer.

Jett drew his lightsaber as well. “What’s happening? Who is that?” the Padawan asked Uru.

Satisfied that the time used to make his point was well worth it, Xuvas turned to his red-clad trooper while ignoring the two Jedi. “Pjiega?” he said to the trooper.

Smug to the point where she almost ruined the moment, Pjiega walked behind the other follower and removed the silent woman’s robe for her. Black armor with red trims revealed itself, along with flexible links covering two lekku. Although her new armor didn’t reveal any skin, the voice alarmed the older Jedi with familiarity.

“Lies...it was all lies,” the twi’lek Sith said through her breather, softly but not calmly. Xuvas and Pjiega both took a step back and gave her some space.

“Yadira Ban!” the Miraluka Jedi gasped, dropping her guard for a moment. Jett didn’t seem to understand what was going on.

Barely noticing that there were other people in the room, Yadira continued speaking to the floor despondently. “Lies...all of it...I was denied...real ultimate power,” she mumbled. Xuvas reached forward and handed her his own lightsaber, which she took after staring up at him as she transitions from a haze to a sort of clarity.

Uru approached the Lethan as Xuvas backed away again, observing the scene with Pjiega. “Yadira...what have they done to you?”

Yadira’s hands shook as she held the lightsaber. “Eyes...opened my eyes...so much to see...” She ignited the lightsaber and just gawked at it, visibly in awe of the red color.

Raising a cautionary hand, Uru crept closer and held her own weapon defensively. “Yadira...do you remember me? I taught you and your friends when you were a youngling...you’re still a Jedi, whatever they’ve done to you.”

“So bright...red...shiny...”

“Listen to me. You will lower that weapon right now,” Uru said while trying to use Force influence on the Lethan twi’lek, “You will step over to me, and you will eliminate the tormentors who did this to you. I’m Uru...I once taught you...I’m a Jedi...like you-“

Yadira’s head snapped up so fast that Uru stiffened. “Jedi?” Yadira said in a low yet definitely not relaxed voice. “Jedi? You taught me, a Jedi?”

“Yes, Yadira. I wasn’t your master, but I taught you when you first entered. Don’t you remember? There is only peace...let your soul find-“

“Lies...”

Straightening up, Uru tried to be firm even when Xuvas and his Rattataki henchwoman were mere meters away. “Yadira. Listen to me now. Lower your weapon; there is only peace-“

The entire floor shook as Yadira hunched her shoulders and growled, sending a small shockwave all around her and causing both Uru and Jett to back off and raise their lightsabers. A dark purple light shined in Yadira’s eyes behind her new mask.

“ALL LIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEESSSSS!”

A wild blast from her Force scream ran out in all directions, knocking around debris in addition to the two Jedi as well as Pjiega, who seemed positively thrilled while rubbing her hands together.

Having botched her Force scream, Yadira quickly regained her bearings once her hate had a visible target. She rushed at Uru, swinging Xuvas’ lightsaber even faster than he could, aiming every single shot at a vital, one-hit-and-dead target on the Miraluka’s vital parts. Uru struggled to keep up due to her dumbstruck shock at the Lethan’s transition to the dark side. Jett was a little faster, though not any less foolish.

“Stop!” the human Padawan yelled while trying to strike at Yadira’s armored lekku.

Snarling like a tukata, Yadira spun around and rushed the Padawan, quickly overwhelming him in a hail of sparks and fumes that celebrated his butchering. So violent was the way Yadira dismantled him that he couldn’t even scream; only coughs escaped from his throat, and pieces of him hit the ground as she cut at him like a surgeon, albeit a mentally unstable one.

“Yes!” Pjiega cheered, “show them what you can do, my pretty hate machine!”

She didn’t seem to notice Xuvas’ odd glance at her, and he pledged to himself not to ask what exactly Yadira’s transformation process had been like during those hours in the Black Talon’s brig. “Shut them down, Yadira; we’re on a tight schedule,” he said while tapping the devices on his bracers to see if they still worked (they didn’t).

“Jett! No!” Uru gasped, finally letting her despair show. Xuvas drank from it through the Force and beamed with pride at the very first former Jedi he’d ushered to the dark side. Unlike him, Yadira didn’t try to take prisoners, and Uru started to breathe more heavily when she realized that Yadira wasn’t trying to take her alive. “You leave me no choice, Ban!”

Crazed even though the drugs were out of her system, Yadira’s eyes glowed again briefly as she forced Uru to remain defensive only. “Lies, LIES! You all denied me real power! You were the ones who enslaved me!”

A stray attack finally connected with Uru’s midsection, felling the Miraluka and knocking the lightsaber from her hands. Denying Uru the dignity of last words, Yadira sliced and diced until Xuvas stepped forward and laid a hand on her shoulder. She spun around aggressively at first, but when he impressed the weight of his aura in a way that only Force-sensitives could field, she relented in deference to the hierarchy.

She bowed her head and raised his lightsaber to him as an offering. “I end their lives for you, Lord Xuvas,” she said without making eye contact. “Have I done wrong?”

“No, Yadira, that was a stellar performance; we aren’t in a position to detain them for conversion now. That’s why we must go before we run out of time.” He pushes his lightsaber back down to her. “Keep it. Consider it a welcoming gift for your own conversion, along with your armor; I can make a new weapon for myself later.”

Still subdued once their enemies were dead, she took her new lightsaber from him but kept her rage in check. “I will bathe it in Jedi blood,” she said with a bow.

“For now, there’s regular old Republic blood waiting,” he told her before turning to the Rattataki. “Pjiega, they’ve fortified their position in the barracks below. What’s the fastest way to subdue them?”

She folded her arms smugly. “Gas from the ceiling. Hardly anybody ever checks the ceiling.”

“How can we accomplish that?”

“Simple: the two of you assault their barricade of furniture head on. While they’re distracted, I’ll go through the vents and drop all of my teargas and flashbang grenades down behind them. They’ll either rush out toward the two of you and get killed, or they’ll pass out in their box and...” She tilted her head at him and turned away coyly. “...then I get to kill them anyway?”

“May I join the slaughter, too?” Yadira asked her in a despondent voice.

Clearly eating it up, Pjiega play pushed the new Sith. “Only for one,” she laughed.

“We can sort that out later, but we have to go. Quick, to the elevator.” Xuvas led them back through the hall, saying nary a word to his troopers as his trio stepped inside. They went down a single level, exiting to silent halls full of doors stuck open thanks it the hard reset he’d orchestrated from the bridge.

Pjiega stopped him before he could approach too closely to the barricade. “Here, master. I need to crawl into the vent in the ceiling here.”

Xuvas squatted and let her step into his hand so she could jump and climb into the vent. She gave him her vibroaxe so she could reasonably fit in the small space, and hung her head out upside down once her footing was secure. “My climb could cause noise of there isn’t a diversion to muffle it, master. I don’t need them hearing me.”

“We’ll handle it. Now, go; we need to evacuate a soon as possible,” he told her before she nodded and disappeared from view.

Counting minutes in his head, Xuvas walked silently through the hall, passing by empty room after empty room to the sound of explosives rocking the hull. Yadira followed swiftly behind, mumbling nervously in anticipation of the coming fight. The fight found them, figuratively speaking, when they rounded a corner and nearly bumped into the barricade made from overturned bunks and lockers.

Two Republic soldiers behind the barrier panicked upon sight of the two Sith. “Code red-“

Xuvas Force choked one of the guards and slammed the man into the other, knocking them out cold. Laser fire poured out of the door of the dilapidated room, though there wasn’t a clear line of vision to who was inside. Yadira ignited her new lightsaber and deflected the blasts. For his part, Xuvas willed a sonic barrier to materialize in front of him, focusing on the rhythmic hum of the energy until it reached a pitch audible to most sentient species. Most ineffective laser fire poured out and at a faster rate, as if the sound had drawn all aggression from the hostiles.

The sound of grenades hitting the floor inside of the barracks wasn’t lost in Xuvas. He counted one, then two, then three, then six, then...far too many. What was Pjiega trying to do?

In rapid succession, half a dozen flashbang grenades exploded, garnering screams from the Republic troops just as the teargas rose from the floor. The masks of the two Sith, the Rattataki, and the troopers could protect them from the gas, but the blindness allowed Pjiega to drop from the ceiling and go to work on the enemy troops with her vibroknife. More screams rang and she hacked at them like a maniac, causing Yadira to start fidgeting nervously.

“She’s not leaving any for me!”

“Wait for it,” Xuvas said. “Wait until the ambassador-“

He was interrupted by another twi’lek, smaller than Yadira and blue, who ran out of the barracks screaming. Xuvas grabbed her as she gagged and rubbed her eyes, nodding to his own twi’lek follower. “Go, Yadira,” he told her as she rushed in to join.

Struggling despite barely breathing and not seeing, the ambassador seemed every bit the conniving worm he’d imagined her to be.

“Unhand me you pig!” she coughed as tears dropped out of her eyes and snot dropped out of her nose.

“Vyn Asara...the rat that thought she could raid the trap. The snake who’s been undermining the Empire on allied worlds...even on our own worlds.” She tried to retort, but the teargas was still in her system, and what came out of her mouth sounded more like a strange amphibian creature. “Your days of subterfuge and treachery are over. I’m going to exercise all political powers at my disposal to ensure that you aren’t sent to the gallows...you will live to see your precious Republic dismantled as planets secede, willingly or unwillingly.”

A weak protest emitted from her raw, scratchy throat, but he ignored her attempts to curse him. He did hand her a handkerchief, more due to his own displeasure at her reaction to the gas than any concern for a person whose work he despised. For a few more minutes, he waited and Asara blew her entire sinuses into the handkerchief until the sound of fighting stopped.

Pjiega and Yadira emerged, the former carrying a Republic officer over her shoulders. “We cut the face off of their commander, so this chump is their only surviving officer,” Pjiega said. “Can we keep him?”

Xuvas ignored Asara’s weak attempts to slap him. “Fine; prisoners are better than corpses, but we have to leave now. We don’t have much time.”

His two followers hurried to keep up with him; as much as it hurt him to breathe, his joy at their success compelled him to walk briskly, and they reached the elevators in less time than it had taken them to reach the barracks. Down in the hangar bay, the trio was greeted to bodies on the floor, a flaming shuttle, Imperial marines securing the perimeter, and a round of applause that was deafening as it was out of the ordinary for Imperial military personnel.

The corporal in charge quieted the troops down, though Pjiega caused an uproar when she unceremoniously dumped the Republic officer amid the corpses of his fellows. A circle of Imperial troopers formed, pelting the prisoner with refuse and dumping engine coolant in the man’s hair.

“Lord Xuvas!”

The familiar voice called him from the control room in a shaky tone, and his last surviving personal pilot waved to him. Her eyeshadow was running down her cheeks and her cap was missing, but she looked like whatever mourning she’d done had already ended.

Dragging the wriggling ambassador with him everywhere, he approached his pilot. “Orcina, my comm link is broken,” Xuvas said, trying to get right to business. “We still have personnel on the top deck; I need you to open the intercom so I can talk to them.”

Smiling sadly at him, she hesitated, as she often did, but for too long given the circumstances. “My lord...I’m so happy that you came back to us,” she laugh-cried.

“There’s no time for reunions now; we have to-“

“Mr. Yash didn’t make it,” she said swiftly.

This time, it was Xuvas’ turn to hesitate. His emotions ran high, especially in the wake of an unexpected victory, and the news of his loyal trooper’s loss hit him hard. He’d rather have sacrificed ten of the nameless soldiers in the hangar than to have lost Yash.

“That’s...a great loss.”

“He protected me to the end, my lord,” Orcina wept. “He stepped in front of a rocket for me. I wasn’t strong enough to help him-“

“You are strong, Orcina; strength isn’t only in muscle power. You’re my fastest pilot, my best astrogator, and my most adept communications tech. You can get us out of here. Open the intercom and you can save those who are left.”

Wiping her eyes in her sleeve, she nodded and opened the intercom, too overcome to speak. Asara tried to yell something into the receiver, but a mild Force choke shut her up.

“Attention all personnel: this is Darth Xuvas. All surviving personnel report to the hangar for evacuation. Abandon all current operations and carry only your weapons. The fallen will receive posthumous funerals at their next of kin’s demand. Do not delay; we don’t win until we reach the Black Talon.”

Coughing her lungs out, Asara finally seemed to clear her throat enough to talk. A string of invective in her native language poured out of her mouth, prompting Xuvas to wave down Pjiega to the control room. The Rattataki left the disgraced Republic officer to heed his call.

“Take this ingrate into the shuttle, and relay my order for immediate boarding to the Corporal. When the rest of the survivors arrive, make sure they move directly into the shuttles; don’t let anybody waste time.”

A quick tug at Asara’s lekku caused the Republic ambassador to squeal in pain. “Yes, master,” Pjiega said while dragging the apoplectic twi’lek out by her head tentacles.

“And don’t rough her up yet; we need her in tact.”

“Of course master,” she said while trying to stop herself from smiling.

“I’m being serious.”

Pjiega wouldn’t make eye contact with him, but he knew she wouldn’t disobey either. Still, she was probably pulling on Asara’s lekku too hard, and he hoped that the blue ambassador would be in condition for a detailed, in-depth interrogation later.

As troopers poured in from the elevator and hurried toward the shuttles, Brukarra’s image flickered onto the holoterminal in the control room. “My lord, an external bulkhead has been breached; a third of the ship has been sealed and we lost oxygen. Structural damage is beyond catastrophic. We need to go now!”

“Watch your tone and stay calm,” he said, “and give us the details once we’re in route.”

Scared and relieved at the same time, Brukarra took a deep breathe. “My apologies, Lord Xuvas. We’re all grateful that you’re returning...please hurry.” Her transmission cut off on its own, and he turned to his pilot.

“You can do this; this is your last task on the mission, Orcina. You’re going to fly us straight into the hangar, and then we can rest.”

Cupping her hands pensively like a frightened toddler, Orcina hesitated as she looked at the shuttle she’d have to fly. “Use your fear; don’t deny it,” he told her while putting an arm around her and leading her to the ship. “Embrace it and let it fuel your escape. Master it and it will work for you.”

Breathing protocol, she didn’t reply to her commander, merely boarding the shuttle and taking the controls. The same combat engineer they’d flown with on the way there was waiting for them in the cockpit, albeit with the armor of one arm removed and replaced with battlefield bandages.

“All surviving personnel have boarded, my lord,” the engineer said.

“Override all safety protocols and maintenance checks,” Xuvas said. Orcina didn’t answer verbally but nodded and ignited the engines, pushing the throttle before all systems were even online.

Their shuttle shot straight out of the hangar first, leading the other two - both Imperial and hijacked Republic - into the field of battle. Xuvas could feel the fear radiating off of his pilot increase once they were into open space, but there was something different this time. Even with more chunks of ships floating around them, her vocalization was minimal and her eyes remained focused on their route. Her reaction time even seemed better as they wove in and out of missile fire and laser blasts.

The Black Talon looked awful. There were patches of molten durasteel all over it, and it had already pulled away from Shan’s Hammerhead frigate to put some distance between them. Orcina had to chase their bigger transport ship down, skidding to a stop inside of the hangar due to the speed at which their getaway vehicle was getting away even from them. For all the Black Talon’s damage, though, Shan’s frigate looked even worse: its thrusters had blown off, pumping carbon into space.

A crew of ensigns rushed the three shuttles as they landed, carrying out the wounded and removing their armor for emergency treatment right in the hangar floor. The ship’s unnervingly loud alarm sounded off for half a second a few times only to be manually overridden each time, signaling the ongoing crisis. Lieutenant Sylas was waiting outside for the Sith, silently clapping a few times as they approached each other amid the hustle and bustle of troopers.

“Bravo, my lord,” Sylas said while pretending she didn’t have ridiculously messed up hair after the Republic boarding party. “All enemy targets have either fled, disengaged, or been destroyed. We lost all the Mandalorian allies, though the Chiss survived. They’re-“

Another mild uproar reached them as Pjiega and Yadira paraded ambassador Asara and the Republic officer among a crowd of admirers. Sylas immediately recognized their intended target and watched in mild alarm as the two prisoners were dragged to the brig.

Xuvas flagged down the nearest ranked officer. “Sergeant, be sure that the prisoners survive the victory celebration,” Xuvas told the officer.

“Yes, my lord.”

Sylas rejected a transmission from Hetter, but wasted no time in drawing Xuvas’ attention. “Lord Xuvas, it’s time. We need to-“

“Just wait a moment, Lieutenant,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Come here.”

She followed him over to the magnetic barrier separating the hangar from the void of space. “What is it, my lord?” she said just as they stopped at the edge. “Oh my...”

Another explosion occurred on Satele Shan’s frigate. Muffled by the vacuum of space, the explosion created more smoke than heat, pumping more fumes into space as portions of the thrusters crumbled. A stray Thranta broke apart completely while half the hull of another one drifted by. Shan’s ship deployed repair drones, saving it from the brink but likely grounding her and her crew until a rescue ship could respond to a distress signal.

For a good long time, Xuvas and Sylas just stood there, watching. There was no sound, but the sight of brief blasts of color on the Hammerhead’s hull as gas pipes and fuel tanks gave out was like a work of art. All the pain from his own injuries melted away as he watched the Esseles explode just a little further away.

“We just beat the Jedi Grand Master,” Sylas murmured.

Xuvas was almost beyond words. “Yeah,” was all he could say as they just watched their enemies crumble.

“She’s not hurt personally, but...my lord, the galaxy must know. A transport ship just beat her armada.”

A deep hum of satisfaction reverberated in the Sith’s throat. “They will...give the order to hit the hyperdrive.”


	16. Lessons Learned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected fail turns into a roundabout win for one ambitious Sith.
> 
> Regarding Darth Acina’s role: the flash points represented here occur three years before her promotion to a Sith Lord on the dark council. I thought it would be nice to show her as a young and struggling Sith being shafted with busy work like a graduate TA. Hail the Empress!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t own Star Wars.

After a few hours of recouperation at an Imperial medical center on Alderaan’s surface, Xuvas and his crew had been goaded by members of the House of Thul into staying for a few more days while damage assessments took place on their materiel. The process could have been completed at the Imperial Fleet, but the opportunity for publicity proved to be too tempting for the 5th Fleet, the House of Thul, and the Sphere of Philosophy. Vyn Asara was paraded around like war booty on Imperial and Chiss holonet, and a number of confessions were extracted from her using Sith alchemy and unwanted staring contests with Pjiega - including a list of names of all her co-conspirators on Imperial planets. By all accounts, theirs was a resounding victory: a mere transport ship had arrested two VIPs from Republic ships, destroyed Satele Shan’s armada, and broadcast much of the assault on public channels.

It was on the fourth day of his unwilling downtime on Alderaan that Xuvas was stopped outside of one of the House of Thul’s many libraries by an errand boy wearing the purple and red sash of the family. The pureblood had just exited, enjoying a walk in civilian clothing for once, when the human teenager caught up with him.

“Darth Xuvas, uh, Darth Xuvas! Excuse me!”

Irritated by the boy’s ill manners, the Sith swung around and glared at the runner with yellow, wolf-like eyes. “Sorry for yelling,” the kid said. “Sorry for yelling, my lord. I was trying to find you and thought you’d been lost. I was sent to find you by the Imperial communications attaché near the spaceport, but when I tracked your communications link, I found that it was with your pilot.”

The notion of punishing the boy did cross the Sith’s mind, maybe even in front of the library where people would see. Xuvas thought twice, though, holding back his hand. If one concept had been on his mind frequently since the Black Talon-Esseles Massacre, it was that destroying the weak brought him no challenge, experience, or true growth as a warrior; yet at the same time, overt mercy was itself weakness. He regarded the errand boy much as he might a spec floating by in the wind and barely regarded him.

“I’m not carrying any electronic devices right now because I wanted to be left alone, in case that wasn’t obvious.” Folding his arms in front of the jumpy errand boy, he merely sought what he wanted instead of listening for more. “Do I have any communications from Dromund Kaas yet? Any military officials with reports from the drive yards?”

“Yes, Yes, that’s why I’ve been sent to find you! Representatives from the 5th Fleet and the Sphere of Technology have news on your outstanding balance with the Navy.”

“Outstanding balance?” he asked, rhetorical and astonished. The boy paused as if he had no clue what was going on, which was for the better. “Where were my crew members?”

“Not far from the attaché’s office, my lord. They were near a restaurant frequented by mid-level officers and low-ranking Sith...some place called Fortitude, or Fortnight...”

“You don’t know the names of restaurants in your own city? No, nevermind, don’t answer. Run along and tell your handler that your mission was accomplished.” He ushered the errand boy away and left the library, finding the nearest Imperial taxi station outside. “Search restaurants near the spaceport starting with ‘Fort’ in the title,” he told the transport droid.

A few clicks and beeps were all that were needed. “One restaurant each found under the names ‘Fortress’ and ‘Formidable.’”

Xuvas hummed in disapproval. “Just take me to them both, in that order. I’ll sort things out while there.” He hopped in and submitted to a retinal scan for billing since he didn’t have his data pad with him to transfer credits, and then was off through the offensively bright, colorful streets of the House of Thul metro area. The ride felt longer than it was due to his fixation on the errand runner’s statement, and he tried to focus his mind on the litany of other things which bothered him.

Near the spaceport, the taxi pulled up to the first restaurant in question, the Fortress. It most certainly wasn’t to his liking: low-ranking Sith mingled with one another as buddies, chatting casually as if they weren’t pondering the war effort they should be leading. When he stepped out of the taxi, a few of the recently graduated noticed the pin on his cloak from the Sphere of Philosophy and straightened up, speaking in lower tones and disposing of their chewing gum out of respect. Saying nothing to them and thus putting them even more on edge, he walked to the waiting area only to find the newest addition to his crew, her new tattoos gleaming under the red lights of the eatery.

Yadira Ban’s lekku flipped around when the two young human Sith she’d been speaking to informed her that a higher ranked member of the Order was watching them. She bid them farewell and approached the empty corner where Xuvas was standing.

“Greetings, Lord Xuvas,” she said with a bow. “The others are still inside.”

“Good; I’m about to receive news on the status of my ship, so I’ll need to inform them shortly of whichever plans I have next. The time for all of us on Alderaan may come to an end shortly - especially for you.”

Yadira’s eyes lit up, no longer from the effects of alchemy but from sincere glee. “Yes! Let me join your path of destruction across the galaxy so that the liars and deceivers, the Jedi Order, may lay at our feet!” she said, practically beaming.

After a few days of waiting, he felt it was probably best to clarify her immediate future for her. The eagerness in her eyes warned him to be delicate, and he waved for her to follow him outside, away from everyone else. “In your case, the plan is a little different,” he said as she followed him away from the others.

Her emotions ran strong, and her expression changed rapidly since he’d broken the Jedi hold on her. “What do you mean?” she asked him, equally curious and worried.

He stopped once they were away from other people. “Since we’ve been here for a few days, I made a few arrangements on your behalf. You’re strong, Yadira, and you have a great future ahead of you, but you’re still new to the truth of the dark side. Your power must be honed, refined.”

“I will focus as you instruct me, Lord Xuvas,” she said while bowing again, clearly signaling that she didn’t like where he was taking their conversation.

Smiling at her and speaking clearly, he chose his words such that she’d understand her parting with his crew. “Yadira...you have made an incredible transformation, one that so few of the victims of Jedi lies will ever experience. You possess a strength of character and power in you that your peers will lack; you’re a tidal wave crushing cities by the sea, and you can do more. You can achieve more. You can earn more recognition by the Empire.”

Her glee disappeared, replaced by slight anger and suspense. “Then lead me as you lead others, Lord Xuvas. Lead me and I’ll finish what we started with the great deciever Shan. Teach me!”

Still smiling, he tried his best to explain. “Yadira...I’m your equal in age and experience, with only a slight head start. I’ve spent my life learning the ways of the dark side, but like you, I’m still no expert. There is so much you can learn, so much more that your power can grow, and I’ve arranged your enrollment with them - all expenses covered, all relevant approval already gained. You will receive all of the best to help you grow, but I’m not qualified to be your cultivator.”

Rushes of different feelings swelled inside of her, though her anger at least subsided, replaced by too many other things for any one emotion to become dominant. “But you teach Pjiega...she calls you master!”

“She’s not Force-sensitive; I don’t teach her anything. She only calls me that from gratitude because I paid for her manumission from slavers.” He held her by the shoulder, the gesture reducing her frown somewhat. “I’m telling you, I’m not at the level where I can truly make you stronger. If I kept you on my crew, I’d be guilty of preventing your growth, as well as of preventing the Empire’s growth through strong members of the Sith Order. By helping you skip training on Ziost and go straight to Korriban, I’ve helped you and the Empire far more than I could on my own.”

A measure of dismay, even rejection lingered, but her eyes lit up at the mention of her destination. “You...got me into Korriban?”

“Yes. And legally, at that; I haven’t had to call in favors or wield nepotism. Through formal channels, I’ve arranged for your enrollment in the main academy on the planet, where you’ll be able to share intelligence about the machinations of the Jedi, as well as hone your skills and truly learn more. I’ve created an ID number for you so that any Imperial customs official will let you pass; as soon as you choose, you may enter any Imperial shuttle and demand passage to Korriban. To the home of the Sith. To my home and yours...the home of your new Order and family.

“My favorite overseer from my own days there is expecting you; you can use my former gear and artifacts. The instructors heard about the slaughter you dealt to the Jedi and Republicans aboard the Esseles. They’re all waiting for you.”

As fast as it had appeared, the sense of rejection left her face. She appeared to think about the prospects for a long time; even if she’d spent all her life as a Jedi, she knew the significance of the academy on Korriban. “I feel so much now...everything the Jedi forced me to repress, all the emotions they shamed me, and made me look down on myself for...it’s so strong,” she said quietly. “I will miss your presence when I’m culling the unworthy, Lord Xuvas. I’m not happy to say goodbye, but at least I’m free to say it now, unlike when my parents tossed me to the Jedi and told me it was wrong to miss them. But I’m very happy for the opportunity.”

She bowed to him one last time. “May your help to me be of benefit to the Empire,” said the former Jedi Padawan once in charge of the Brentaal Star.

Xuvas bowed back. “May you surpass your peers and use your power to punish the dishonest.”

The two of them lingered for a moment, though thankfully, even with the explosion of repressed emotion she was finally feeling, she seemed able to keep in perspective the fact that they’d only known each other for a few days. Her sadness left her quickly, and the moment of hesitation soon passed.

“Pjiega and Orcina might be unhappy at first...may I inform them myself?”

“Of course. We Sith hate, we punish, but we also value attachment. Passion includes the full spectrum of emotion, and we never shame each other for it. Not the intelligent among us, anyway.” More patrons from the restaurant passed them by, interrupting their quiet moment. He knew there would be no benefit from lingering. “Spend as much time with them as you want. I must meet with officials at the office across the street, so I won’t see them for a while anyway.”

“Very well...I’ll inform them of everything. If you’re not present, then perhaps they and I can share a drink.” She took her leave first, pausing only briefly at the restaurant entrance. “Goodbye, Darth Xuvas.”

“Goodbye, Yadira Ban...I hope that the next time I see you, you’ll also share the title.”

They waved and parted after a discussion that had gone far better than he’d expected. She still carried his former lightsaber on her belt, and he’d prepared in case she accused him of abandonement or something silly like that. Leaving her to say her goodbyes with the rest of his crew, he crossed the tree-sheltered street and entered a government building that had the foppish, pretentious architecture and decor of Alderaan.

Inside the building, he had to submit himself to further retinal scans and DNA tests since he still didn’t have his datapad on him to confirm his identity. So many security clearances were there that he regretted his habit of casting off his electronic devices whenever he could just to be away from technology when off-duty.

Once he’d passed all checkpoints, he found himself in the office of the communications attaché, a citizen who seemed to be descended from the local House of Thul stock. She welcomed him into the oddly bright-colored room and even offered him tea, of all things, before they began to speak. For all the pretense of that planet’s people, they were still very quaint at their root.

“So, Lord Xuvas, I trust that you’ve enjoyed the cultural splendor of this edge of the Empire,” the attaché said while sipping in her tea as if it were still hot.

“Mostly the libraries.” Her eyebrows shot up as if she were about to start rambling about her planet’s history, and he put down his tea to prevent her from starting. “Listen, I was told about an issue with an outstanding balance. It’s been days, far longer than they’d need for a usual repair estimate. What’s happening?”

The attaché put down her tea as well. “Yes, about that. The Admiral of the 5th Fleet is a very busy man, and he regrets that he couldn’t wait for you, but he left a holorecording for your viewing. We also have a rep from the Sphere of Technology on the line, but the Admiral was insistent that you watch to his message before you speak to the rep live.” She continued to sip her tea after the explanation, almost like she was waiting for a response.

Slurping his tea down quickly to make a point, he set the cup aside and leaned forward. “Well?” he asked.

She must have been expecting more of a chat and seemed like his brevity had caught her off-guard. “What? Oh, goodness, so sorry my lord. Here it is.”

She pressed a button, pulling up a hologram of a familiar scarred face and insincere smile. The faux dramatic pause at the beginning already irritated the Sith.

“Greetings, Darth Xuvas; I’m Admiral Rycus Kilran of the Imperial Navy’s 5th Fleet, though I’m sure you already know that.”

“Can you fast forward past this part?” Xuvas asked the attaché.

“Hmm? Wait, you mean you want me to skip past the Admiral’s personalized greetings for you?” she asked, as sincere as Kilran was insincere.

Explaining why to her would go over her head and scolding her wouldn’t achieve any goal, so Xuvas let it go. “Never mind,” he sighed.

“I’ve recorded this holo for you due to my busy schedule. Things are moving forward for the Navy, and we owe our thanks to you and the other frontline commanders like you. May the Emperor’s will be done!

“You may be wondering now about the status of your transportation. After a brief series of analyses which I ensured were prioritized for your benefit, we’ve concluded that the Black Talon has been damaged beyond repair.”

Eyes wide open, Xuvas felt a little bit numb. “What?” he murmured out loud.

“Critical damage to the reactor core required us to dispose of it to avoid a meltdown. The puncture to the hull and chassis was so deep that repairs would require the removal of all external plating, and water leakage in the environmental control systems have contaminated the filtration plant so deeply that it couldn’t be salvaged. The total cost of repairs for the Black Talon would actually exceed the cost of building a brand new Gage-class transport ship.

“Because the Black Talon was your personal property per my deal with you, and because you’d not yet extended your old ship’s insurance policy to cover it, the Navy isn’t responsible for the total loss of your asset. We are, however, still responsible for the job placement of all the Black Talon’s old crew members, and I’m happy to announce that all survivors have been given new positions along with compensation for stress from the credit coffers your alien slave looted from the Brentaal Star, seeing as how all appropriated assets during military operations are rendered government property.”

“What a sweet man to do that for all those crew members!” the attaché cooed.

“Quiet!” Xuvas shouted, scaring her into silence.

The hologram’s fake smile pulled into a more real one, if only due to the uncalled for passive aggressive attitude. “Lieutenant Sylas says hi, by the way.”

“Of course,” the Sith sighed.

“As Admiral, I’d like to formally extend my congratulations to you on a job well done. The traitorous general and the terrorist ambassador have both yielded valuable information as well as served as immeasurably useful publicity tools. Your name will forever be etched into the annals of history as the man who conquered Balmorra and then destroyed the Jedi Grand Master’s armada with a transport ship. A ship which was lost, of course, but I’d calculated your chances of salvaging any material from the confrontation as nearly zero. I assumed you’d naturally come to the same conclusion, so I didn’t bother you with that in conversation.”

For a split second, Kilran’s total lack of honesty in communication melted away, and that scarred face contorted into a smile that almost seemed friendly. “If your services are ever needed again, I’ll be sure to contact Darth Aruk so he may schedule your services for the 5th Fleet.”

The brief moment was gone as soon as Kilran was no longer talking about things he wanted or what would benefit him. That fakeness returned to his smile, almost making it look like a sneer. “Kilran out,” the Admiral said in a voice that was suddenly very serious.

The attaché was tempting Xuvas not to use her as a training dummy, literally applauding Kilran’s hologram. “What an honest, straightforward person, am I right?” she asked. When greeted only by silence, she continued. “Oh, that tech rep is still on the line. Should I patch her through?”

Mourning for his lost ship, almost like a shattered dream to him, Xuvas merely waved his hand for the attaché to initiate the holocall.

This time, the hologram was only of a person from the waist up, and she appeared to be working at a terminal, wherever she was. It was a human, one glowing with dark side power yet subdued and almost bored at her communication terminal. She looked strong, both in body and personality, and although Xuvas wasn’t interested in humans, he had to concede that she was quite pretty. She was distracted, though, and didn’t seem to realize that she’d made such a strong first impression.

“Darth Xuvas, juggernaut of the Sphere of Philosophy, good day to you,” she said while finally looking up at him. She was formal, though she didn’t seem enthused about her work. “My name is Acina, and I represent the Sphere of Technology.”

Happy to speak to a fellow Sith, Xuvas relaxed in his chair. “Your greetings are returned and appreciated, Acina,” he replied, causing her visible surprise for reasons he couldn’t guess. “I’m curious as to why the Sphere of Technology is involved, though.”

He could see her sweeping through screens on her end of the line with a finger, though he had no clue what she was looking at. He guessed that her work was the dampener of her mood; she radiated power within the Force, yet she seemed to be working in a stuffy office.

She looked at him again once she’d found what she needed. “As a representative of my Sphere, I’ve been tasked by our dark lord to handle all cases involving material licensed by the Arcanum. This involves examination of your specific case against any insurance policies which the Sith Order has allowed you.” Her boredom with the task almost caused him pain, and seeing another Sith relegated to such meaningless clerical work caused a sense of defensive instinct for his fellows to stir.

“You have my condolences for being assigned tasks which are beneath you,” he said without thinking. Acina’s eyes widened in surprise again, and he could feel her sense of suspicion about him. “I apologize for making assumptions, but the resources of the Sphere could be better spent keeping our kind out of climate controlled offices and among our Empire’s troops.”

She stopped for a few seconds, staring at him blankly. Her presence in the Force transformed from one of suspicion to curiosity. Looking behind her, perhaps to ensure that she was alone, the Sith named Acina seemed taken aback by his openness.

“My ambitions within the Sphere require that I accept any tasks which must be completed but have not been so,” she replied cautiously. “However...your kind words are appreciated, if unexpected.”

Xuvas tilted his head at her. “Now you’re bringing out the philosopher in me,” he said with a slight smile now that his mind was taken off of his shattered dream. “There is no peace; there is only passion. The dark side calls us most strongly to anger and hate so that we may defend our Empire, but that doesn’t prevent kindness. Kindness to our underlings who form the backbone of Imperial space, kindness to our fellow Sith who have also realized the truth. It costs nothing when shown at appropriate times, and it increases cohesion among citizens so that we may resist the utilitarianism and hollowness of the Jedi. Kindness only becomes weakness when it’s used as an excuse.”

Acina’s mouth dropped open as she listened, and the way that she paid so much attention brought him out of his preaching and back to the world outside of ideological arguments. “My apologies. I suppose that rambling comes with the territory in my Sphere,” he said.

“No...no, don’t apologize. It’s...refreshing to hear that not all of us view infighting and intrigue as necessities to being Sith,” Acina said. “Unity among like-minded people is what built the Sith Order, and the Empire itself. I wish more of our leaders on the Dark Council understood...perhaps I should stop myself.”

“As you wish, though I think I know what you mean. But, hey...continue with your extra efforts in the Sphere. I doubt I’ll see any promotions soon, so perhaps you could be the one to make a change with how the Order is run.”

Acina smiled, and her manner was the polar opposite of Kilran’s. Her smile was real - not soft or delicate, but real. “Now you’re just flattering me, Lord Xuvas. I’ll have to move on to our actual work now, otherwise I won’t let you stop.”

“Very well, very well.” Leaning forward again, he rubbed his hands together slowly as the anxiety boiled up inside of him. “What’s the damage?”

Acina’s smile melted away, and she became stiff-lipped once they were talking about matters of importance. “Extensive, I’m sad to say. Under normal circumstances, your Sphere’s insurance policy would cover the loss of your Fury-class interceptor, especially since it was damaged by Republic fire. However, a holo of the battle shows that you intentionally rammed it into the Brentaal Star, which invalidated the Arcanum’s policy.”

“In other words, the Arcanum won’t pay for a replacement?” he asked.

She bit her lip for a second. “In other words, you owe the Arcanum for a cost equal to the ship prior to the modifications you installed out of pocket,” she said, almost apologetic in her tone.

Xuvas leaned further forward and rested his elbows on his legs, head down. “Alright. So...in my circumstance, a last ditch effort to destroy the target results in my culpability. In order to avoid culpability, I should have remained in flight so the Republic starfighters could have destroyed me...in which case I’d be dead, but a replacement ship would have been provided?”

“Yes, that’s the situation as it stands right now. I contacted Darth Aruk at your Sphere, and he refused to release money from his budget to reimburse the Arcanum. Also, he sent some note about...” Acina paused, confused as all hell as she read one of her screens. “Something about...Wait, he wants me to tell you: fix your cape. That’s what it says.”

“So I’m being trolled by a seventy-year-old man who won’t help cover costs for his apprentice, and...my insurance policy will only cover costs if I’m dead.”

Sympathetic but firm on the rules, Acina didn’t let him negotiate. “Pray for me to receive a promotion to the Dark Council and I’ll see to it that these rules are amended,” she said with a perfectly straight face that he knew was an act. Her humor was infectious, however, and this time it was his turn to smile.

“May the Force serve you well, Acina, and grant you success as you earn the rank you deserve.”

She was taken aback by his comments again, and he wondered how much pointless busywork was dumped on his poor fellow Sith by the head of her Sphere. “Thank you,” she replied. “You know...I know a method whereby you won’t be bankrupt.”

The use of that word depressed him with its reality. He hadn’t even the time to consider the possibility yet; just an hour ago, he’d been under the impression that he’d regain his capital ship in a few days with a fresh batch of troops under his command and a reputation to match it. His fortunes had turned on him so fast that he had difficulty comprehending the fact that, rather than a successful starship commander, he was more likely to end up destitute and going to teach at the academy for teenagers on Ziost in order to pay off his debts.

Head still bowed low, he spoke carefully. “I defer to your greater knowledge on this,” he said.

“Well, you owe the Arcanum for one Fury. I also intercepted the damage report on the Black Talon, which is your personal property. There are standard offers at Imperial scrap yards, and if you sell the salvageable materials from the remains of your transport ship, the profit would cover all costs for replacement of your former ship, and the remainder would fall only five-thousand credits short of repairs for your heavy armor and the cost of a new lightsaber. I also checked that.”

Burning at Kilran, at Aruk, at the Republic, at the galaxy for his lack of options, he sat back up and hoped that Acina wasn’t just another backstabber who’d use the information they shared for her own gain. He had little recourse otherwise, especially given the severity of bankruptcy proceedings on members of the Order.

“Acina, I hope that I’m not being too presumptuous if I ask a favor of you. My datapad isn’t here, but this office has my retinal scans and DNA results. Can you use that to run a balance check on my account?”

Efficient and swift, she wasted no time and started flicking through more screens he couldn’t see. “Yes, I believe I can. Alright...if you pay for that remaining five grand for your gear, then you’d have...” She waved her index finger around and did the math mentally instead of using the computer, which he found quite funny given her position as a technologist. “...you’d have three thousand credits to your name.”

Xuvas slowly shifted in his chair again, moving steadily since blood had rushed down to his head. Closing his eyes and pinching the high bridge of his nose, he tried to accept the reality now offered to him.

“So I lost my Sith ship...I lost the transport ship I’d earned...my most loyal trooper captain died...my armor isn’t ready...I don’t have a weapon yet...I won’t even have enough money left in the bank to buy a speeder bike...I’ll have to reach future missions using public shuttles...and my mentor’s only concern is that I fix my cape.”

For a few pregnant moments, Xuvas remained silent. He didn’t say anything, just closing his eyes as minutes ticked by. The attaché became visibly stressed out by his silence and started to shift her posture all around, and even Acina herself looked silent and concerned when he didn’t say anything.

And then he just laughed.

Subtle and mild at first, the Sith warrior let the sound of laughter escape from his mouth, eventually reaching a hearty and good-natured laugh of proportions similar to Kilran. His head leaned back and he laughed until his molar teeth showed, never degenerating into sobs or despair. The most honest laugh he’d had in a long time shook him, and he facepalmed for a while before looking up to Acina’s perplexed expression.

“I deserve this,” he chuckled, confusing the attaché so much that the idiot at least stayed quiet.

Acina cocked her head to the side. “Come again?” she asked.

Shaking his own head, Xuvas leaned deep into his chair, comfortable in the truth. “I deserved to have a misfortune like this happen, and the Force has visited it upon me. I earned my situation.”

“How so?”

“Weakness. My own two hands have earned this misfortune because I have violated the Sith Code, a mantra I care for more than my own family, through my actions.”

Acina didn’t quite understand him, so he explained. “I rep the Sphere of Philosophy. More than any other member of our Order, I know the importance of the code. I know its meaning and significance. I know the seriousness of violating it. And yet, I have done so because I’ve still not purged myself of weakness.” He stood up and folded his arms behind his back.

“When I won the Black Talon in my deal with Kilran, I basked in the splendor of a converted luxury ship for civilian transport. I reveled in the attention of underlings who had no choice but to seek my approval, relishing in the submission of people whose loyalty I hadn’t truly earned. I coveted that vessel so much, but only for the prestige and status of it - not for its destructive capabilities. Not for the power it could have brought me. Not for the victory I could have brought the Empire through it.

“When my former pilot was killed by a Republic bounty hunter, I claimed that Sith only kill the strong and cowards kill the weak - forgetting that we also kill the weak if they oppose us, and forgetting that my pilot’s own frailty made him vulnerable and thus unable to properly support our mission. The strong provide a better challenge than the weak, provide more experience and a better test than them, but mercy to the undeserving is not the same as kindness to an equal. He was a weak link which I failed to remove, and so the Force removed him for me and punished me for my dereliction.

“I violated my own code, and these chains, these chains on my pride and my freedom of movement, are a befitting recompense. I must change - grow. I must let my hate for my own weaknesss grow until I’m strong enough to excise failure from my being. I must change or wither away.”

The room fell silent again. The attaché almost ruined the moment by clapping like she had for Kilran, but Acina glared at the idiot and maintained the period of reflection for a few moments longer. Only when Xuvas turned back to the holoterminal did his peer speak.

“What occurred wasn’t a total loss; the wider strategic objectives of apprehending the general and the ambassador were obtained, and trading a transport ship for Satele Shan’s armada is a net gain for the Empire. The only losses incurred were specific to you - as I see it, you’ve still completed your mission successfully and glorified the Sith over the Jedi. You’ve earned a strategic, if not tactical, victory.” She paused for a moment, letting down the usual barriers that Sith maintained and spoke to him much like a sister (except his real sister was awful and probably wouldn’t have been so cordial). “Still, I understand your personal disappointment. To admit one’s own failures is painful and difficult; to learn from them and wish for change is rare. Perhaps this lesson is for the best, Lord Xuvas...I respect that ability in people.”

“Pray for me, Acina, for I have many sins against our code to atone for. For what it’s worth, I thank you for your help in sorting out this mess with my tech. If all that extra work you put in does pave your way to the Dark Council, then maybe our Order can find the unity and efficiency to stop squabbling and finally end the Republic.”

After flicking through a few more screens, Acina had given the permission to sell the wreckage of the Black Talon on his behalf. “And done...there. And I appreciate the encouragement. If, by some chance, any of that ever works out for me, I’ll remember what you’ve said today.” She swiped away all the screens in front of her and looked at him again, a little less bored by her work. “Is there anything else?”

“No, you’ve been immensely helpful. I don’t forget assistance given, either.” Without regarding the communications attaché, he rose to leave. “With that being said...I have a lot to think about. I must commune with the dark side of the Force...”

He and Acina bowed to each other before her image disappeared, and he walked out into the hallway before unwanted conversations about Alderaan’s civilization could start. More than anything, he wanted to be alone for a while.

“...I must prepare to change. Through passion, we gain strength...through victory, our chains will be broken.”


End file.
